


We Can Only Make Believe

by TaylorJ



Category: Backstreet Boys
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mpreg, Slash, single parent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-01
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-01-14 03:26:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1251019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaylorJ/pseuds/TaylorJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He lay quietly still in the worn hospital bed, clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides. He'd come to the best hospital in the country for male childbirth and all they were able to tell him was "Breathe, he-he-who." What a joke.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Moments of Perfection (BSB version)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/232845) by [krysnel_nicavis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krysnel_nicavis/pseuds/krysnel_nicavis). 



> The idea for this story came after I read "Moments of Perfection." I've been toying with a single parent story line for one of the guys for many years and after I read that it simply solidified the right plotline in my head. This will be more than a one-shot story but I'm posting it as such until I finish writing the next few chapters; it can stand alone but know that it won't always. Hope you enjoy!

He lay quietly still in the worn hospital bed, clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides. He'd come to the best hospital in the country for male childbirth and all they were able to tell him was "Breathe, he-he-who." What a joke.  
  
The nurse in the room continued to prep around him, verifying results across the various machines he was hooked to, and doctors filtered through every few minutes. Even though this place was world renowned, Alex still knew that male pregnancies were a rarity and that a team of specialists were carefully monitoring his labor progress.  
  
Grinding his teeth to stave off the pain of a contraction, he was hit in the arm. "Baby, stop that." His mom scolded, unfolding the newspaper she'd used; it was one of the few she had been skimming all morning while relaxing in the chair next to his bed. He loosened his jaw at her insistent look and the sound stopped.  
  
Turning away from his mother, he stared out the window at the snow-covered expanse of land. It'd been six months since he'd seen the guys, seen _him_. He managed to escape at the end of tour, just into the third month of his pregnancy, and just before he was no longer able to hide the small curve of his belly. He'd been desperate to keep secret what was going on; picking a small cabin in the woods of Vermont to make his home in, close to the hospital. He hadn't been sure what the guys' reactions would've been, least of all _his_ , but he was too terrified to stick around and find out. They all loved each other like brothers, that was true for the most part, but this had the potential to rip that all away; it was better he'd ruined that all by himself.  
  
He'd dodged their calls for months, Kevin, Howie, even Nick, and though a seldom occurrence, there had even been calls from Brian. Even the guys' _families_ had been calling. All the voicemails blended together for Alex, so similar they were. He'd heard the standard:  
  
 _"How are you, bro?"_  
  
And the:  
  
 _"Why'd you leave?"_  
  
Of course the:  
  
 _"Management wants us back in the studio..."_  
  
And the unpredicted, multiple choruses of:  
  
 _"I don't know where you are, J, but we miss you."_  
  
They'd been trying to check in with him - trying to find out why he left - trying to find out if he was coming back. He'd hurt them all almost as much as he'd hurt himself by running. But the calls abruptly stopped about a month prior, and he found himself wondering how much they really truly cared and how much of it was show: giving up their search after only a few months. So now, beyond his mother, he held no contact to the outside world.  
  
In that six-month span, Alex had bore through a good amount of child-rearing books and the few documented male pregnancy books he was able to get his hands on. There had even been a video documentary of one man's labor, but he'd been too chicken to rent and watch it. He felt prepared, probably as much as he ever would, for what the rest of his life would be like after today.  
  
"Mr. McLean," he glanced up at the white coat-covered doctor who was standing at the foot of his bed. "You're contractions are coming at a pretty fast, consistent rate now and we're just about ready to head down to one of the labor rooms." The doctor smiled. "Ready to be a daddy?"  
  
Alex clenched his teeth again and raised one hand to rub over his enlarged belly. His mind warring between wanting this moment over and never wanting to take the next step. He glanced towards his mother warily, who was staring at him with a smile on her face.  
  
"You'll do great, baby." She said as she stood up at his bedside. She leaned in and kissed his forehead, brushing his hair back from his brow. "I'm so proud of you." She whispered.  
  
He cleared his throat, lifting his head an inch to kiss her cheek. "Thank you, Mom." He whispered back. Once she pulled away, he turned to face the doctor and nodded. "I'm ready."  
  
As the few staff members disconnected his IV and multiple heart rate monitors, the word repeated in his head. "Ready." He whispered to himself, still rubbing his belly one-handedly, as they rolled him out of the room and down the long hallway.  
  
They aligned his bed with table in one of the designated male delivery rooms and, with the staffs' help, he was able to shift himself onto it. Once he was settled, the nurses standing on either side of him smiled and extended a blue curtain across his chest, securing it high enough for him to not be able to see over, while two other nurses hooked him back up to the monitors and IV pole in the room.  
  
He'd been refusing, up until that point, to acknowledge how strong the sharp pains coursing through his lower abdomen every few minutes were. His mother had rushed him there when he felt the first one, countless hours earlier, and the doctors had insisted on waiting for consistent labor before initiating his C-Section. As this contraction hit though, he had no choice but to let some sound break through the barrier of his grinding teeth.  
  
Unfazed by the sound he'd made, the doctor leaned back from where he was partially hidden behind the blue curtain. "We're all ready to get started, Mr. McLean. The first thing you'll feel here is a prick," Alex winced, "And in a few minutes you may feel another one. We're just numbing up the area so we can can make the incision."  
  
He raised his head off the table, staring with watery eyes into the mask-covered face of the doctor. "I'll be able to hold him right after you take him out, right?" He asked, wanting to reconfirm what he'd been told at appointments prior.  
  
He could see the doctors eyes un-squint from behind his medical glasses and knew that his smile was genuine. "Of course."  
  
Alex nodded in reply and laid back on the pillow that was tucked under his head. He stared up at the ceiling, the lights glaring into his eyes, as he waited for the next question that would be directed towards him, preferential to zoning out until he'd hear his baby's first cry. Indifferently, he answered "no" when the doctor asked if he could feel them poking and prodding into his skin and he mentally tried to prepare himself for what was to come.  
  
Barely a few minutes later, he first heard it. His son's voice wailed in the room and echoed off the white walls, crying from being pried from his warm home. Keeping to his promise, the doctor immediately pulled the child around the blue curtain, and placed him high on Alex's chest as Alex's arms came up to hold him there. He stared down in awe, only then fully realizing that he had been caring this life inside him for the past nine months.  
  
"Hi, my little angel," he whispered to his son, feeling some of the nurses eyes staring at him. He lightly rubbed his hand over the tuft of dark brown hair on the top of the baby's head, unable to help himself from smiling. He started to sing softly, his face tilted close to his son's, trying to calm the child's cry.  
  
Before the baby even opened his eyes, Alex knew to expect blue. What he hadn't expected was how much the color would resemble the child's father's eyes. His throat closed on a note as he stared down at his son and whispered again, "Hi, my little angel."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _*the timeline of this chapter has been changed. Please be aware that this chapter is now supposed to take place six months after chapter one.*_
> 
> I have to say that I'm honored to see so many "hits" on this story after only one chapter has been posted and I hope you all continue to enjoy. I've got about half of the next chapter finished as well and should be able to post it in a few days. I do hope this story lives up to everyone's expectations...

_6 months later_  
  
"Peek-a-boo!" He sung, taking his hands off his son's face. He grinned brightly at the giggle that escaped the little boy, his arms flailing at his sides and a large tooth-less smile on his face. He covered his eyes again before calling, "Peek-a-boo!" once more.  
  
The little boy reached up and clasped his small fist around Alex's pinky finger. "Alright, alright, little man," he laughed. "Getting tired of that one, huh?"  
  
Blue eyes sparked up at him, still so eerily similar to the blue eyes Alex used to catch himself staring into. "Just about your bedtime anyway." He whispered, his voice hitching in his throat.  
  
He wrapped his arms around the six-month old who had been resting against his bent legs. Cradling his son to his chest, he rolled off the couch to stand and made his way towards the kitchen doorway. Peaking his head inside he found his mother standing at the sink, washing the dishes from their earlier dinner. "Mom," he said, catching her attention. "I told you I was going to take care of those after I got Presley to bed."  
  
She scoffed at him, a smile fixed on her face. "Never mind, you, Alex. You deserve some rest as well. Go, get my grandson to bed." She said, walking over with wet hands to kiss both their foreheads.  
  
"Thanks, Mom. You're too good to us." He smiled, kissing her cheek before turning on his heel. He climbed the stairs to their bedrooms, making his way into Presley's room.  
  
He put him down on the changing table before grabbing his nighttime onesie from the draw below. Making faces all the while, he quickly managed to change both his diaper and outfit. Part of his nighttime ritual, a suggestion from his mother, came as he picked his son back up and walked to the rocking chair in the corner of the room. He sat down, tucking Presley in at his side, and pulled the small binder off the shelf next to him. Flipping it open, his own breath caught in his throat, as it always did. "Ready for tonight's story, Pres?" He asked, his head tucking towards his son.  
  
"Once upon a time, in a place called Orlando, there lived a very rich man. This man spent his life looking for five perfect boys so that he could make them into world-famous stars. He put an ad in the variety paper, looking for boys who could sing and dance to audition for a new boy band.  
  
"He started the auditions the following day, finding the first member in a short, brown haired boy who could not only sing but who could dance better than anyone he'd ever seen. He decided that this boy had to be a part of the group, so he offered him the very first spot.  
  
"In the next group he saw, he found a bright-eyed, young Puerto Rican man who could sing in a beautiful falsetto, and decided he must be in the group, too! All three of them watched the as next group performed and were in awe of a short, blonde haired boy that commanded the room. This little boy was a star on his own so the rich man decided that he must become the third member.  
  
"In the last group they watched, they found two more boys. These two were older than the rest and had talent far beyond the three already cast. They were immediately welcomed and the five boy band members got to work.  
  
"A few weeks later, after rehearsals and recording, it was obvious that something wasn't right. One of the last boys to join was too self-involved and he made it harder for everyone else. The rich man decided that this simply could not be, so he let him go and the remaining four began their search for the last member.  
  
"Another week passed before the oldest of the group suddenly realized who had been missing! He called his cousin, who had to travel to Orlando from a place called Kentucky, to audition for the spot. As soon as the other three boys and the rich man saw the golden haired, blue-eyed boy from Kentucky, they knew they'd found their match. And one day later they sung together, for the very first time, in perfect harmony.  
  
"The rich man knew that he'd found the five perfect boys he had been looking for and soon started shopping them to record labels and events, finally landing a deal with a well-known company. The company sent the five boys to Europe, where they performed for anyone who would listen, until one day, their songs were starting to be played on the radio!  
  
"The five boys worked hard and reached their goal, becoming one of the most well-known singing groups of all time!" He trailed off, looking down at his son sleeping peacefully in his arms. His eyes lingered on the photo he had opened to in the binder; it had been taken when they were first starting out, all of them cuddled on a couch meant for two people at most, and beaming their smiles up at the camera. He gently touched a finger to one of the guy's faces, and closed his eyes, still seeing the photo in his mind.  
  
"Staying away from them is slowly going to kill you, baby." Denise called from the doorway.  
  
Alex slowly opened his eyes and maneuvered himself to place the binder back on the shelf. "Not true," he said as he rose from the chair. He walked to the crib in the corner and slowly tucked Presley in as he talked. "I want him to know about them; I'm never going to hide anything about them from him. But I don't need them to be happy anymore."  
  
Denise cleared her throat when Alex turned back to face her. "But what about him? Doesn't he deserve to see his child grow up? To at least know he exists?"  
  
It was the same conversation they'd been having since he had first told his mother he was expecting. He knew she'd be there for him, but he knew she'd also fight his decision. Luckily, she respected her son enough to not go behind his back, but she'd challenge his thinking every chance she could.  
  
He closed his eyes, looking as though he was in pain, before slowly blinking them open again. He walked towards the door and softly shut it as they walked out of the room. "I know, Mom. I know it's not fair to him. It's been almost a year though, and I just can't stand the thought of going back now." The resigned note in his voice hitched. "They haven't even tried reaching me in months. All their love for me was just show."  
  
"Now that's not true," she said sternly, staring at him with both hands on her hips. "You and I both know how much they love you. And we both know that they _still_ do. But, Alex, you couldn't have expected them to try forever." He shut his eyes at that. "At some point they have to move on."  
  
He squeezed his closed eyes, willing the tears he could feel building not to fall. "I'll think about it," he whispered, just as he always did, before making his way down the hall to his bedroom.  
  
Denise watched him go with a sadness in her eyes. She knew her son was happy there, tucked away, alone to raise his child as he saw fit, but she could see the weight on his shoulders. All the pain he'd often try to hide was dragging him down and she could see clearly how much it was hurting him to stay away.  
  
She turned down the hallway to head to her own bedroom. Intent on catching up on her needed sleep as well, she hurriedly washed up and changed. Laying down on the bed, the covers resting at her waist, she leaned back against the headboard. She grabbed her magnifying glasses and old flip phone off the nightstand, and settled back to read through any missed messages.  
  
The boys' hadn't simply stopped calling Alex; they'd been reaching out to her as well for all the months he'd disappeared. She wouldn't disclose any information but from time to time she'd send them messages that he was doing okay. She promised herself that she would divulge nothing of why he left or if he'd come back, but she wanted to help ease the concerns of the boys who were like second sons to her.  
  
Only Howie maintained contact with her on a semi-regular basis, having been so close to Alex, and she knew that he passed along her messages to the rest of the boys. He only ever asked if Alex was okay; he'd attempted, at first, to find out where he was, to try and get into some form of contact with him, but she'd nipped that in the bud by not responding to those messages. Gradually, he'd gotten the point and seemed to settle for the few words she'd share. Opening the most recent message from him, she quickly skimmed it and responded in kind before shutting the phone and putting it and her glasses back on the nightstand. She never told Alex she communicated with them, choosing to use her "mother's instinct" card if he were to ever find out.  
  
When she woke the following morning, it was to a quiet home. She knew she'd heard Presley at least once the night before - the child was Alex's without a doubt, the kid could _wail_ \- but the cries were silenced pretty fast each time; Presley responded to his father's singing like nothing she'd ever seen before.  
  
She made her way down the hall to her son's room and peaked inside. Not seeing him there, she softly smiled to herself before making her way to Presley's room. The baby was laying on his back in the crib, gargling up at the softly spinning mobile with a smile on his face.  
  
Curled up tightly in the wooden rocking chair, Alex lay still fast asleep. It was typical that she found him in here. He often claimed that he couldn't sleep and that being near Presley helped him relax enough to do so. She could relate, having had a hard time sleeping away from Alex when he was a baby. She knew it was a deeper emotional tie than Alex ever let on; an abandonment concern that was always in the back of his head. She quietly walked across the room and put a gentle hand on her son's shoulder.  
  
Alex startled under her touch, one foot flying to the ground to steady the rocking chair while his hands grabbed tightly to the armrests. He looked up, relaxing immediately at the sight of his mother. "Scare a guy why don't you," he grumbled, running one hand over his tired face.  
  
Stifling her snicker, she padded at his arm again. "You know, you'd probably sleep better in a bed."  
  
"You're probably right," he grinned sarcastically. Turning to look at his son in his crib, his voice took on a sad lilt. "But I sleep better near him."  
  
"I know, baby." She whispered. "Listen, I'm going to go prepare us some breakfast; take your time getting Presley downstairs."  
  
"Alright, thanks, Mom." He pushed at the armrests of the chair and slowly came to stand as Denise walked out of the room. "Hey, baby boy," he said, leaning over the edge of the crib.  
  
Presley smiled up at him, still gurgling and kicking his feet back and forth. Alex smiled back, unable to help the warmth that filled his insides whenever he looked at his son. Always with that warmth, though, came a twinge of pain that nestled itself deep within his heart. All he saw when he looked into Presley's eyes was the face of the little boy's father. He had Alex's hair and dark features, but his eyes were a replica of the man's who'd helped create him.  
  
He pushed that feeling away, locking it tightly in the back if his mind, as he picked his son up out of the crib. He bounced him on his hip, singing and dancing with the boy, while getting him ready for the day. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been revamping this chapter since monday... I finally feel like it's at the point where I can happily post it but there's a chance I'll come back on here and edit it again. We're starting to hear a little about the boys in this chapter, what they're doing, how they're feeling. I've got the next chapter nearly done so I should have it up in a few days. Hope this is leading where everyone's hoped...

His southern drawl broke the silence. "You know, at first, I think we all thought this was some sick joke he was pulling on us..." Kevin trailed off.

"He's done some similar things before." Brian interjected.

"Never to this degree though," Howie corrected. He sighed. "We want to thank our fans for sticking by us, for waiting this out with us, but it's been a year now and we're no closer to finding AJ.

"We haven't given up hope, we are still trying to exhaust some of our last options, but we feel," he gestured at the three men sitting around him, "like its time to come to terms with what this all means."

The interview host interjected, "The end of the Backstreet Boys?"

Nodding solemnly, Kevin continued. "He may've chosen to disappear but he's still a part of this; he's still our brother. We can't make the choice to continue without him, not without knowing how he'd feel." Nick scoffed. "So the four of us have decided, until further notice, that this is the end."

"Well, we thank you gentlemen for coming here to announce this. I'm sure I'm right in saying that the fans and the rest of the industry will miss you terribly but that we wish you the best in any future endeavors."

Once the show cut from them, the four men stood, shuffling their way off the stage and back towards production. Howie roughly pulled the small microphone from his collar and made his way towards the waiting van, the other guys' following behind him.

Nick climbed into the car last, slamming the sliding door shut, plopping himself into the backseat. "This is such _bullshit,_ " he bit, crossing his arms over his chest. "AJ suddenly decides to up and fuck us all and we're the ones left having to stop performing."

Brian reached behind his seat and patted Nick's knee, not knowing what to say.

"It's not like that, Nick." Without turning in his seat, Howie spoke from his spot beside Brian. "We all know him, whatever made him leave, cut all contact with us, it was something big."

"Yeah, well..." Nick grumbled as Kevin spoke over him.

"Do you still hear from Denise?"

"Rarely," he sighed. "She only tells me enough to basically let me know he's alive." He hung his head into his hand, lightly massaging his forehead. "Any time I've asked for more, she stops responding."

"His stubbornness always was his downfall," Brian grumbled.

"I just wish he'd come back." Nick whispered, swallowing around the lump in his throat.

The car was silent the rest of the ride to the airport. Each boy was scheduled for a different flight, having only met up in New York to make their joint statement, all heading back to their respective homes. Climbing out of the car, they stopped at the trunk and huddled together to say their goodbyes.

Slinging his carry-on over his shoulder, Nick steadfastly tried to keep his emotions at bay. "Alright, guys," he mumbled, stepping up to hug each man in turn. "I'm off to Tampa for a bit, maybe going to try recording some stuff on my own; if you guys don't mind, that is." He hurried to correct.

Brian smiled at him, grabbing a baseball cap out of his backpack before hooking it over one arm. "I think we're all going to be doing the same thing, Frack."

"If anyone gets any more information," Kevin started, "don't hesitate to call. Day or night." He leaned in towards Howie and whispered something into his ear; Howie nodded his head in return. Pulling back, they all began to walk into the terminal, Nick and Howie heading towards their respective ticket counters to get their boarding passes, while Brian and Kevin made their way to theirs.

Slinging his arm over his younger cousin's shoulders, Kevin let his guard down. "I hate seeing them both so distraught."

"Can you blame them?" Brian asked, as they took their places at the back of the roped line.

"Not one bit." He sighed. "I never thought I'd say it, but I miss him."

Smiling ruefully, Brian nodded in return. "Me too." Stepping forward with the line, he gestured with air quotes, "any immediate plans for our 'break'?"

Huffing a laugh, Kevin replied. "Just heading home for some family time. Kristin's really been pushing me for wedding details and I guess now's as good a time as any." He shrugged. "What about you? Finally going to let Leighanne set a date?" He asked.

"Maybe," Brian said. "I don't know, cus. I mean, I know I proposed to her - I know I love her - but there's this niggling feeling in the back of my mind that's saying I made a mistake."

"Gitters," Kevin replied calmly, stepping up to the counter. He passed his ID and flight confirmation to the attendant, turning back to Brian when he stepped up to the attendant next to him. "You'll get passed them. I had them, too, when I first proposed to Kris."

"Yeah, but I guess," he shrugged, turning to lean one shoulder against the counter. "It's been months though and I just can't help but think--"

"Here you go, sir." The attendant interrupted. Brian turned around to face her with a smile. He thanked the woman before grabbing his boarding pass off the counter and walking away.

Looking around at the gate numbers listed behind the security lines, Kevin found his own. "Well, I'm this way," he gestured over his shoulder.

"And I'm this way," Brian responded.

"Alright, well," he started, leaning down to pull Brian into a hug. "I'm going to miss seeing you everyday, man."

"I promised mom I'd be home for the fourth, so, only a few months until you see my ass again."

He laughed, pulling back from the hug but keeping one hand on Brian's shoulder. He squeezed. "You should come back to Kentucky for a while, it'll probably help settle those nerves of yours."

Glancing up towards the high windows in the terminal, Brian smiled. "Maybe. You going to give me a place to crash?" He laughed.

"Nope, I'm going to stick you back in your old bedroom at your parents. Teach you to only come visit once a year," he grumbled, laughing all the while.

"Love you, cus." Brian said, hitching his bag higher on his shoulder. He waited for Kevin's reply before turning to walk towards his gate.

•••

Howie's flight landed in Orlando with barely a bump of turbulence. Making his way swiftly out of the terminal, he headed for the short-term parking area. Digging through his bag for his car keys, he clicked the remote lock to help him navigate where he'd parked. Finally finding his car, he hopped in and started his drive home.

Half-way up the on ramp for the highway, he realized he'd started driving in the direction of AJ's place instead. Shaking his head, he vaguely remembered Kevin asking if he'd stop there before heading home. He flipped the radio on and leaned back in his seat, knowing it was a bit of a drive.

A good fifty-miles later he finally pulled off the highway, finding himself at a four-way light. Once green, he made a right hand turn, following that street to a gated community about another mile down the road. Rolling up to the code box, he plugged in AJ's visitors number. The gate swung open and he drove through, pulling up to the house a few streets away, just before one of the many col-de-sacs.

Shifting his car into park while leaving it running, Howie sat just staring up at the house. It still looked as desolate as it had the last time he'd driven by. It was only early evening, but he could tell that no lights would turn on once the sky began to darken. The grass looked freshly mowed and the rest of the landscape well taken care of but he knew that was thanks to the maintenance fees his friend paid. Sighing, he settled himself in for a long night of sitting there, knowing he didn't want to leave any time soon.

Glancing at the clock, four hours later, Howie knew it was time he headed home. AJ wouldn't be back that evening. It was unlikely, Howie thought, that he'd be there any day soon.

Having not wanted to simply settle for letting AJ go, Howie had called private investigator after private investigator, various police teams, anyone he could think of, to help locate his best friend. He was trying hard to stay hidden... as off the map as he was, there had not been even one paparazzi shot of the man. Howie'd know, having scoured all the tabloids he could get his hands on in the last year. He briefly wondered if his friend really didn't want to be found.

"Damn it, J, why'd you do this?" He growled, pounding his palm against the steering wheel as he turned onto the highway. He made one more stop along the way, passed Denise's house, for his own sanity's sake.

He knew she trusted him, would probably tell him if she was in town, but even finding her had been running the cops for a loop. They weren't even able to track her cell phone number for some reason; there was some type of block on it that Howie guessed AJ had put on there in case of fans. That screwed them now, though, leaving little a trail to follow.

Her IDs had been used, a few times and at a few different airports, but because they were privately searching, and she wasn't a criminal, there was nothing they could do to restrict her travel beyond letting Howie know where and when her ID had been swiped.

AJ's mail wasn't even being forwarded anywhere. He'd gone to the post office himself to see if there was a new address. He'd even tried tracking credit card purchases, but they were from all over and none of the shipping information was ever the same. He'd personally driven to a few of the addresses to find empty warehouses at the end of a long road. At his wits end, Howie was tempted to give up.

But _no_ , he thought. He felt, fiercely in his heart, that if things were the other way around, AJ would never stop searching. Even if Howie had wanted to be left alone.

Finally home, he pulled into the driveway and put the car in park. He slowly climbed out, the weight of the world resting heavily on his shoulders. He pulled his bag out of the passenger seat before heading up the walkway. He'd call Denise all night if he had to, he was going to get through to someone. That, he promised himself.

•••

"Ma, would you please answer that damn thing? He's crying every time it goes off!" Alex yelled from his son's room. He was leaning over Presley's crib, trying to calm the baby with his mobile, by singing, playing with puppets, but each time the ringer went, he'd be starting from scratch again.

"It's Howie calling, Alex. Do you really want me to answer it?" She snapped angrily, appearing in the doorway while holding the loud-ringing phone.

He glared at her. "At least put the god damn thing on vibrate. It's like you don't even know how to use the phone." He growled back, stepping away from the crib. He hated getting mad in front of Presley, wanting to hide him from that part of life for as long as he could. He found himself at the end of his rope though, seconds from throwing his mother's phone at the wall.

It wasn't just the phone going off, he knew, but it was the final straw. He'd been trying to get Presley to sleep for hours now. His son was overtired and _warm_ and bawling his eyes out and all Alex could do was try his best to make it better. With his mother finally walking away with the phone - he could care less if she actually answered Howie's call now - he ran his fingers through his hair and pulled on the ends.

"Alright," he rasped in a near whisper. On the verge of tears himself, he picked Presley up out of the crib and cradled him to his chest. He sung soothingly, one hand wrapping around his son's head, holding it to his shoulder.

He swayed around the room, following a light melody he could hear far in the distance, letting his voice whisper each note in Presley's ear. It didn't help, though, and the child was crying his eyes and throat dry.

The first tear slipped down his cheek and Alex succumbed. He found himself backed into the corner of the room, each shoulder blade pressing against a different wall, and he slid down, landing with his knees bent and Presley still held tightly to his chest. He cried.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to say thanks to everyone who's reading. I have the next chapter written but it won't be posted until the one thereafter is at least half-way through. It'll probably be up early this week. Thanks again and I hope everyone is enjoying...

Waking up early the next morning, Alex struggled to make himself move. At some point over the course of both Presley's and his own tantrum the night before, he'd managed to get the baby into his crib and to sleep. He'd wound up crashing on the floor in Presley's room, tucked back into that corner that made him feel safe. He stretched his arms up high over his head and yawned, somehow managing to roll himself onto his feet. He checked to see that Presley was still sleeping soundly before grabbing the portable baby monitor near the door.

He stumbled out the room, tiredly rubbing a hand over his face. Yawning again, his bones cracking in resistance to how he'd slept, he walked down the steps and into the kitchen.

He found his mother sitting at the table, idly flipping through a newspaper with a coffee mug in her hand. She looked up at him with a pointed glare before gesturing to the coffee maker. He smiled gratefully as he poured himself a cup, taking a sip before moving to sit with her.

She grabbed the edge of the newspaper when he sat, suddenly engrossed in one of the articles she'd been skimming. Carefully tearing the article from the corner, she folded it in half and placed her coffee mug on top of it. When she looked up at her son sitting in front of her, head almost falling into his drink, she had to stifle a laugh. "You've got rug burn on your cheek." She mumbled, hiding her smile in the edge of the paper.

Alex groaned, lifting a hand to rub at his face. "Not the good kind either." He grumbled.

They sat in silence for the next few minutes, Alex forcing himself to wake up while Denise figured out what to say. Finally settling on starting with a sigh, Denise slid her cell phone across the table and bounced it into her son's hand. "He's called one hundred and thirty-eight times, Alex. My inbox is full, as is my voicemail box. Maybe it's time to figure out what all that thinking you've been doing means."

Staring down at the phone half hidden under his hand, Alex felt his heart clench. It began to vibrate again and he rolled his eyes, damning Howie nine ways to hell. "One hundred and thirty-nine times..." He picked his mug up off the table and left the phone where it was. Walking towards the den, he stopped in the doorway and over his shoulder, he spoke. "I'm just not ready."

Before he could leave the room, Denise called back, "Maybe it's not you who has to be."

He growled lowly in his throat at her logic and continued into the den. Grabbing one of the child-rearing books he must've read a thousand times, he settled into his favorite chair. Sitting just beside the fireplace but aimed at the window, this was the best seat in the house to Alex.

It was May already, but he was quickly becoming accustomed to the long winters that fit Vermont. It snowed until May, was moderately warm for two or three months, and then it snowed again. He liked the idea of being snowed in with his son; truly being cut off to the world.

As soon as he'd bought this place he had hired a contractor from the nearest town, a good twenty miles away. The previous owner had used it as a rental property and his own winter cabin but it was hardly suited for year-round use. Alex made sure it was snow-safe for him and Presley, extra generators, freezers that could store enough food to keep them going for months, working fireplaces. If he wanted to, at this house, he could live completely off the grid.

He flipped through the book he'd curled up with without really seeing. He mostly kept his gaze out towards the window, watching flurries float to the ground. What if his mother was right? What if this wasn't about him?

It'd been months since his own phone had rung, and a few less since he last bothered to turn it on. True, she hadn't received phone calls like she had last night in any of the time since he'd left... But maybe they really did love him; maybe they really did miss him, or, at least, Howie...

He shook that thought from his head, refusing to let any type of hope take root in his heart. He knew when he left that the option of returning would be slim to none. Not only did he keep from them that he was pregnant, he was keeping _him_ away from his child. A child _he_ didn't even know he created. It'd be unforgivable.

_But whose to say things would've been okay if I stayed?_

The only two options he'd had were: run and ruin his own life, or stay and ruin all of theirs. He wouldn't change having Presley for the life of him, but he'd given up his own life in the process. Rather than damage all of their careers, Alex felt it was better to only kill his own.

And who was to say that Presley's father would've even wanted him? Alex couldn't bare to do that to his child... He'd rather Presley know that _he_ kept him away all his life than Presley having the knowledge that his father chose to walk away; like his own had.

Hanging his head into his hand, he massaged his temples with his thumb and forefinger. _What if he hadn't rejected me? What if he'd stayed with me?_ Twenty-two years old and a single father was never what Alex had envisioned.

Still massaging his temples twenty minutes later, he looked up to see his mother standing in the doorway. She slowly walked into the room and sat down on the couch that faced his chair. He looked out the window once more before looking back at her.

Denise cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to head home for a while."

Alex's head snapped up from his hand and he stared at her open-mouthed. Just as he was about to protest, his mother raised her hand and continued. "You and I have been ready to kill each other a few different times over the past month, Alex. You need some time to bond with Presley, just you and him. And I haven't been back to Florida since before you had him.

"I'm not saying don't call me everyday; I'd love to hear from you and hear how my grandson's doing. But our relationship is going to continue straining unless we spend some time apart. I'm always here, but--"

"I understand, Mom." He cut her off. Running a hand through his hair, he scrubbed it down over his face. "There's been a lot on my mind and I've been taking some of it out on you. I'm sorry for that. Maybe," he sighed. "Maybe it is time Presley and I were alone for more than a couple hours at a time."

Smiling at her son, she continued. "You know you can call day or night, baby. I don't care what time it is. If he's fussy at two am, woke you up early, or just to say hello."

"I know, Mom." He smiled back. He shut the book and put it on the end table next to him. With his feet curled up under him, he asked, "When are you thinking about leaving?"

She clasped her hands together in her lap, circling one of her rings around her finger. "I need to call the travel agent but if you two would like to drive me to the airport, I was thinking sometime tomorrow."

"We'd love to." He smiled. "It's going to be weird around here without you though. I've had you to fall back on whenever I didn't know what to do." He said, his smile turning sour.

"Oh hush," she said, swatting at his leg and he laughed. "You're a good father, Alex. You know how to take care of him."

"Sure," he said, sarcasm rolling off his tongue. "I proved that real well last night."

"There were a lot of extenuating circumstances last night. I don't think you can count it."

A quiet "ha" sound escaped him and he leaned back in the seat, throwing a hand over his eyes. "If you're through yanking my chain, go call the travel agent and find out some flight times."

Laughing, Denise stood and walked back into the kitchen, patting her son on the shoulder as she walked passed. A minute later, Presley's soft cry could be heard over the baby monitor and he quickly stood to hurry to him.

Skidding to a stop in the room, he peered over Presley's crib. "Hey, you little booger," he laughed. Reaching down, he hooked his hands under his arms and lifted him, setting him down on the changing table.

"Alright, bud. Let's see how productive you were last night." He mumbled, opening the onesie and pulling it off him. He made faces, Presley smiling up at him as he changed him and dressed him in new clothes. Picking him up again, he danced around the room with Presley laughing all the while.  



	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be ready last week but I got absorbed in reading a story and was unable to focus on my own until it was finished. The next chapter is on it's way to being finished and it shouldn't be too long before I've got it up (not planning to read again until it is so, fingers crossed). I do hope you all are still enjoying this and that it's leading where you want. Thanks for reading.

Kevin was on the phone when Kristin walked into the room. His eyes were shut, elbows resting on the desk in front of him and his hand supporting his head. Overall, she thought, he looked deflated.  
  
She quietly walked to him, not wanting to disturb, and stood behind his chair. She dropped her hands to his shoulders and ground her thumbs into the hard knots of muscle. Almost immediately she could feel his body sag.  
  
Kevin cleared his throat, masking the groan he'd let slip. "Yeah, yeah I know, D. All we can do is hope she answers."  
  
There was a pause and Kevin adjusted himself on the chair to make it easier for Kristin to massage him before he spoke again. "I don't think you're nuts for calling repeatedly. I don't think she or J would either... It's kind of a 'last resort' type deal."  
  
He was silent again, listening to Howie speak. "Yeah, I'm with you on that. Listen, call me if someone answers; day, night, I don't care."  
  
He smiled into the line at Howie's response. "Just don't kill yourself by staying up all night again calling. Love you, D." He waited for the echoed endearment before hanging up the phone.  
  
Falling back into his seat, Kevin reached over his shoulder and grabbed one of Kristin's hands. She paused her movements and followed his silent command as he pulled her around to face him. He swiveled his chair to the side and she sat, straddling his lap. Kevin pulled her close, tucking his head into her shoulder and breathing in her hair.  
  
"Howie doesn't know what to do anymore." He exhaled a few minutes later, hot and heavy on her skin. "Frankly, I don't either. He stopped by both AJ's and Denise's places last night. There's nothing to even suggest they've been there at all... He's been calling Denise all night. No one's answered yet, but he knows it must be trying J's patience if she's with him."  
  
Sighing, Kristin squeezed her arms around his upper back. "There's really nothing you guys can do anymore. You're trying, but without him trying too, it's going to result in nothing, you know what I mean?"  
  
He nodded into her shoulder.  
  
"Baby," she whispered. "You can't hold this against yourself."  
  
He nodded again, this time only a sliver of movement.  
  
She pulled back slightly, taking his face between her hands. The guilt she could see flash in his eyes before he looked away was enough to know he held AJ's disappearance against himself. "Kevin, this is _not_ your fault. _He_ left. _He_ chose to. Nothing you did drove him to it. I don't know his reasonings but I can promise you that it wasn't you." She scrubbed her hand up the side of his face, her fingers running into his hair. She balled the ends into her fist and lifted his head until he was looking at her.  
  
He stared at her, eyes watered down and glistening in the soft afternoon light. He glanced down again, settling his vision just under her chin. His voice cracked as he spoke. "I just can't help but feel responsible. I should've been able to see that he was planing to bolt."  
  
"None of you guys did, Kev. That doesn't just rest on you."  
  
"We were living with him for months. I just don't know how none of us saw it coming." He choked on the words. " _I should've seen it coming._ "  
  
Softly, Kristin shh'd him, bringing their foreheads to rest together. He wasn't crying but she swiped the pads of her thumbs under his eyes all the same. "This is not your fault. You didn't see anything because he was acting no different. He didn't want you guys to know. I can't say why, for sure, but this was a tactful thing on AJ's part. I don't care how well you know him, AJ's an actor under everything and he knew how to play his part." Pulling him close again, his face squished into her neck, she whispered into his ear. "You didn't see it because he acted no different."  
  
Kevin nodded, breathing a wet, shaky sound on her neck. "Okay." He whispered back a few heartbeats later. He moved so their foreheads were touching again before tilting his head to softly kiss her lips. "Thank you."  
  
"Thank yourself," she smiled, sarcasm dripping in her voice. Sincerely, she said, "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too."  
  
He leaned back against the chair after she climbed off him a few minutes later. He watched her grab something off the chair in the corner before shifting herself onto the edge of the desk.  
  
Kevin groaned when he saw it was her wedding planning binder, running a hand through his hair. He tipped his head up, a huge smile on his face after she grumbled something along the lines of "Ungrateful bastard trying to make me plan this on my own."  
  
"Shine that smile elsewhere, Richardson. There's a few more things we have to go over." She laughed, settling the book down in front of them both.  
  
"Alright, alright," he said, dropping a hand onto the corner of the binder and flipping a few pages in. "What needs to be addressed?"  
  
"Seating arrangements, flowers, music. You name it, we've got something to decide about it." Kristin said, swatting his hand away and flipping to the right page.  
  
"What'd you do," he laughed, "wait for me before picking anything?"  
  
"Yup." She said sarcastically. It was Kevin's turn to grumble and Kristin laughed in turn. "Pick flowers: lilies, orchids, or hydrangeas."  
  
"Um," he said, eyes scanning the page. "These!" He smiled, pointing at one of the photos.  
  
Kristin smiled back, "I love the hydrangeas, too." She circled the selected photo in the book and flipped the page. "Now, which centerpiece do you like best?"  
  
He pointed at one on the page and she circled it. The process continued on much of the same way for another fifteen minutes before she finally settled on the page that was a map of their seating arrangements.  
  
Bracing herself for the possible breakdown to come, she addressed the smaller problems first. They wound up flipping around a few family members and friends, managing to keep Aunt Silvia away from Uncle Ned and have Rob, Kevin's childhood best friend and an alcoholic, seated on the opposite side as the bar.  
  
"Lastly, um..." She started hesitantly. "We haven't received an RSVP from AJ or Denise. We gave them both a plus one, too. Should we keep them in the chart just in case? Or should we just concern ourselves with possibly having to add them if they show?"  
  
Kevin sighed, turning his head to look out the window. He stared out at the sun sitting midway across the sky. There were clouds running across it, dimming the blue sky and leaving a hazy orange glow to settle over their property. He thought, long and hard, until her hand falling onto his shoulder brought him back to the present. "Take them out." He said hoarsely. "I want them to show, I do, but I don't think it's going to happen. I'd rather there not be those empty seats to remind us..."  
  
She watched him duck his head and wipe quickly at his eyes. Surprised to find her own breath unsteady, she leaned into the hand on his shoulder and used the other to tilt his head up. She softly kissed him, letting him know he wasn't alone and that he wasn't the only one who felt that way. She let him know it was okay to be upset and miss his friend. _No,_ she thought, _that it was okay to miss his brother._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo! Yeay! Chapter 6! Not to give anything away but I kind of love this chapter, especially towards the end... I hope you all enjoy it too.

Buckled into his car seat, only used a few times before, Presley stared at the scenery flying by. Alex glanced in his rear view mirror every thirty-seconds, repeatedly checking that his son was okay.  
  
"Baby," his mom started from the passenger seat, "you bought an SUV for a reason. Nothing's going to happen if you drive more than twenty miles an hour."

"Hardy-har." He said sarcastically. "I just want to drive slow with Pres in the car."

Denise smiled, reaching over the middle console and patting her son's leg. "There is such a thing as too slow, too, Alex. You've got to find the happy medium."

He sighed, picking up some speed. "Happy now?"

"Yes," Denise said, laughing smugly. "It's no wonder you wanted to leave so early, you knew I'd never make the flight otherwise."

Alex turned his head briefly, sticking his tongue out as his mom. "You know you did this when you had me in the car."

"True, but I never drove this slow."

"Done ragging on me now?" He asked, pulling off the highway, finally at the exit for the airport.

"You know I'm only doing it to prevent our sappy goodbyes." She laughed.

"It's a little too late for that, Ma. You're getting sappy whether you want it or not. You've got two McLean's to kiss goodbye and I'm not sure I'll be the one to make you cry."

Denise turned in her seat to face her son, her elbow resting on the middle console as she gestured. "Now, you're sure you can handle everything with Presley on your own? I know heading back to Florida was my idea but—"

"I have to learn to be a single father at some point." He cut her off, coming to a stop in front of her airline's banner at the terminal. He put the car in park before grabbing his mother's hand and squeezing. "You've helped me through a lot this past year, and I know you had grandma and grandpa to help you with me but I need to try it on my own. You were right saying he and I need to bond. We need to know we can go-it alone."

She squeezed his hand back, wondering once again in her life how she got so lucky with a son like him. "You guys are going to do great. I'm not worried. And I'm only a phone call away, you know that."

"I do." He said, pulling his mother across the console and into a hug. He burried his face in her neck, his arms tensing rhythmically around her back. "Going to miss you, though."

"Me too, Alex. I'm going to miss you." She squeezed back. Mindless sounds coming from the backseat made her pull away and laugh, wiping at her eyes. "I'm going to miss you, too, Pres." She said, reaching back to touch the infant's leg.

"Come on, I'll help you with your bags." Alex said softly, stepping out of the car and moving to grab her things from the trunk.

Denise walked around to the drivers side and opened the back door next to Presley, reaching in to unbuckle him. She lifted her grandson out of his car seat and cuddled him close. His puffy jacket was enough to keep him warm but she still tried to protect him from the chill in the air. She walked back around to the curb where Alex stood, getting her luggage onto one of the carts with a tenant in tow.

She wrapped one arm around her son, cuddling both him and Presley to her. "You take good care of him, Presley." She said, kissing the infant's cheek before turning her face up to kiss her son's. "And you take good care of my grandson."

"You know it, Ma." Alex whispered, his voice hoarse with the tears he was holding back.

She pulled away, giving Presley one more squeeze before shifting him into Alex's open arms. "I love you both." She said, walking backwards next to the tenant dragging the cart.

"We love you, too." Alex called back, holding onto Presley's arm and gently waving it back and forth at his mom.

Once she was out of sight he turned back to the car. He opened the back door on the driver's side and carefully fit Presley into his car seat, buckling him in. Climbing into the drivers seat, he adjusted his rear view mirror and smiled back at his son, before carefully pulling away from the terminal.

He was back at the cabin a short three hours later, having driven slower home than he did with his mom in the car. He knew it was foolish, and that Presley was tucked safely into his car seat, but traveling anywhere with his son was a scary thing to Alex. He hoped that feeling would wear off at some point but it hadn't yet. He was lucky enough to usually leave Presley home with his mom whenever he had to go out, and fortunate enough that she usually went out for him. Maybe now that he would have to take Presley with him whenever he went, that feeling would start to change.

He sighed, hopping out of his seat and opening the back door. Presley was smiling at him, waving his arms back and forth and giggling when Alex started to tickle him through his jacket. He smiled down at his son, undoing the car seat and lifting him into his arms. He grabbed the baby bag that he'd put in the car, just in case, and shut the door.

Looking up at the cabin in front of him, Alex knew it'd now be a lot lonelier of a place. He hugged his son tighter in his arms and sighed again, trudging his way through the mush still on the ground to his front door.

He pushed it open and like always, he was overwhelmed by how much he loved this piece of property. The door opened onto a platform, just before the sunken living room. With tall cathedral ceilings and furnished with gorgeous dark woods, the space accented the cabin's natural walls perfectly. In the back corner was the open staircase that lead up to their bedrooms, directly across from the entrance to the kitchen. And attached to both the kitchen and the living room was Alex's favorite room, the den. He toed his shoes off, maneuvering Presley in his arms to pull his jacket off before helping his little guy with his own.

Stepping down the entryway platform, Alex walked into the den and settled down in his favorite chair. He turned Presley to look out the window with him before grabbing the remote off the side table. He pressed play and soft music filled the space. He started the album on the second song, not caring to hear the first, and slouched further into the seat. "You hear that, Pres?" The baby tilted his head and smiled at him, his eyes lit up. "That's your daddy's voice."

Alex's breath caught in his throat again. Presley looked _so much like him_. From his eyes that were a gorgeous crystal blue slanted perfectly on his face to his thin lips that already smiled his father's smile, his hair even had the other man's texture, though Alex's color. He was perfect, Alex thought yet again. He always found himself wanting to recount Presley's fingers and toes, never quite believing that this was his life now. His breath had only ever been taken away by one person before, but now there were two that were able to make his heart ache.

They sat there for hours, listening to the first CD he played before letting the stereo switch to a different album. He even had a few unreleased tracks circling on one of the CDs, allowing them to listen for a long time before they'd hear any song twice.

Presley had turned at some point, and was now tucked into Alex's shoulder. His head rested against his dad's neck and he held one tiny fist curled up into his chest, sleeping his mid-afternoon nap. Alex lightly stroked his back all the while, occasionally running that hand up into his hair. The pressure weighing down on his chest reminded him of how much he used to do that for Presley's father.

Noticing the time, Alex knew he'd have to wake his son. If he left him sleeping now then they would wind up being up all night again together; after Alex managed to recoup a small amount of rest the night before he wasn't ready to risk his sleep again.

All it took to wake Presley was Alex turning off the stereo. Right on queue, he started to fuss in his father's arms and a small cry escaped his lips. Opting to end his crying before it truly began, Alex quickly stood and softly bounced Presley awake.

The usually happy baby looked up with tears streaming from his eyes and soft whimpers coming from his mouth. "It's okay, little angel," Alex whispered, cradling Presley's head back onto his shoulder. He walked over to the stereo and elbowed the power button, letting the music start from the beginning again. "You want to hear his voice, I know." He softly shh'd him. With the music playing, Presley's eyes quickly dried.  
  
Knowing he needed to be changed, Alex shifted him in his arms and knelt down into the empty space between the furniture. He laid Presley on the ground before reaching behind his chair, pulling out the bag of supplies he kept stashed in every room. He laid the soft blanket out first and moved Presley to lay on top of it, before digging in to find the changing pad. Grabbing a new diaper from the bag as well, Alex turned back to find Presley on his hands and knees, rocking his little body back and forth.

"Well look at you!" He smiled, putting the changing supplies off to the side and laying down next to his son. He laid on his side and stretched his arm out in front Presley. "You're almost a man on the move, huh, kid."

Alex watched him bounce contentedly, unable to keep his joy inside. He knew this was the first step to Presley being able to crawl and it hit him like a ton of bricks, knowing his son was growing up already. It excited him to no end but he knew that this would only be the first step to him losing someone else in his life.

Wiping that aching feeling from his gut, he grabbed Presley's hand when he reached one out in front of himself. He laughed, using that hand to roll Presley onto his back. He pushed the changing pad underneath him and reached back for the small trash can before changing Presley's diaper. Once he was finished, he slid a hand under his son's back and pressed his other against his stomach, flipping him over and holding him off the ground.

Presley laughed, waving both his arms as Alex moved him back and forth. "It's a bird! it's a plane! No, it's Superbaby!" Alex swiftly moved so that he was laying on his back and Presley was facing him. He kept one hand firmly on his stomach and supported his weight with the other, making sure Presley wouldn't fall.

Gently, Alex lowered him down to rest against his chest and the baby quickly moved onto his hands and knees again. "Oh no, you're not going to start crawling on me." Alex laughed, but left Presley where he was all the same. The baby mumbled nonsensical sounds at him, occasionally reaching one hand out to gesture, and Alex found himself nodding along with the conversation.

Once Presley talked himself dry, Alex shifted them both again. He rolled onto his feet, keeping his son close, before moving into the kitchen to make their dinner. He'd just been starting to ween Presley onto some solid foods so he went about preparing their meals, Presley sitting in his bouncy-swing in the corner still enjoying the music coming from the den.

Alex made his decision once they finished dinner. Going about his normal nighttime ritual, plus a bath for the almost-crawling boy, he paused to grab the air mattress from the hallway closet. He knew it was easier to keep Presley in his comfort space and move himself in, instead if trying to maneuver the crib into his bedroom. He grabbed sheets as well, and once Presley was sound asleep in his crib, he lied down.

Pushing the mattress close to his son, Alex made sure that he'd be able to reach out and touch him while he slept. For most of the night though, he found himself staring at his small angel, already making plans to knock the wall down between their bedrooms. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have read this story. I'm kind of amazed that there's been 364 hits on this at the time if posting this chapter. I've truly enjoyed writing this story and I'm sorry for how long it's taken to post this chapter. Whether it's been 364 different people reading or one person reading 364 times, I'm truly honored by the response to this story. 
> 
> I am curious of one thing, and maybe a few comments would help me out... Does anyone think they know who the father is?

Brian found himself waking in their bed alone. The sun was streaming in through the soft white curtains — he had no clue why they had even hung them — as he yawned, stretching his arms up high over his head. Rolling over, he smiled, finding a small note perched on top of her pillow.  
  
 _Grabbing breakfast with my bridesmaids. There's egg sandwiches in the fridge you can heat up for yourself. I'll be home soon._  
  
 _Love, Leigh Leigh_  
  
He pulled the note closer to his face and sniffed. Like usual, she had sprayed her perfume scent on the paper. He knew from experience that if he breathed in deep enough it'd almost feel like she was there. Brian sighed to himself and let the paper drop; only when she was there with him did he ever feel like marrying her was a smart idea.  
  
Whenever he was apart from her, on tour, running weekly errands alone, and sometimes just when they were in separate rooms, Brian felt overwhelmed by a sense of _wrong_. So, as a measure of tricking himself, he made sure to keep her close, not letting his mind entertain those thoughts. He knew that he couldn't afford for her not to be right.  
  
Finally pulling himself away from the glorious sunlight heating the covers around him, he stood and proceeded to move about his normal morning business. Twenty minutes later, coffee cup in hand, Brian found himself sitting at their kitchen table. With a warm foil-wrapped egg sandwich in front of him, he gently eased his laptop open.  
  
Opening a new web browser, he checked all the usual sites first. Every tabloid magazine and fan site that he could think of, knowing that they often shared their own versions of AJ's disappearance. He scoured message boards and chat rooms, checking his email in between waiting for pages to load.  
  
He'd developed this habit, searching the Internet during his breakfast, just after AJ left. Brian was a firm believer that their fans, and the paparazzi, could find them anywhere, having experienced their stalking skills first hand. But there was nothing. Still so eerily similar to all the mornings that superseded this, there was nothing. Brian didn't quite understand that.  
  
There had certainly been an occasional "spotting" — Brian seriously doubted the sincerity of what he'd read — of AJ. According to these encounters, AJ had traveled the world a few times over in his absence. He _knew_ AJ though, and knew he wouldn't do that. AJ cared about them, and he wasn't the type to be off gallivanting all over the world while their hearts ached in loss.  
  
Or, at least, he had thought he knew AJ. The young man he'd known would've never done this though, so maybe it was time he reevaluated their connection. He felt so unsure now.  
  
AJ had been one of his _best_ friends. He was more than a brother to Brian. He was everything he felt he had been missing in his life. Often, AJ filled in the gaps for Brian when Leighanne just wasn't enough. He stayed up long nights with him just talking about home, life, their new adventure in Backstreet. He was something that no other person could be for Brian, and he treasured that dearly.  
  
Things had changed somewhere along the way though, Brian could tell. Something happened and AJ had slowly begun to pull away from him a few months before the end of tour. He just clammed up and they'd stopped talking beyond pleasantries, and Brian felt his heart ache in loss. He had tried everything he could think of to keep AJ from closing him out but nothing worked, and now the man was gone from his life.  
  
Ever since he'd left Brian found himself staring at old photos, trying to find answers in a face he'd memorized long ago. AJ had seemed happy, was happy, for all intents and purposes; they _all_ had been. But looking back, Brian could see he had missed things that were now staring him in the face.  
  
In almost every picture after he started to shy away from him, AJ's eyes were covered by a pair of dark-rimmed glasses and his clothing had begun to hang like rags on his skinny body. In the few random photos where the younger man was without his trusty shades, Brian could see that his eyes were sunken and pale. He could also recall AJ ducking out from bars and industry parties not long after they began. He remembered toying with the idea of following him out once or twice, now regretful he never pursued one of those opportunities.  
  
His mind was slowly puzzling out the pieces he'd never really seen before. Fitting his friend's pale skin and drawn in face with looser fitting clothing and Brian's first instinct was an eating disorder. He quickly dismissed that though, remembering the young man still guzzling back a pizza box and wings on his own even near the end of tour.  
  
It didn't make sense to him though. His friend was withering away it seemed, yet it appeared that he was taking decent care of himself. Sure, AJ wandered off alone from time to time but could Brian really blame him? Their careers were hectic and stressful and it took a toll on every one of them. So, _so what,_ that AJ would spend some mornings locked away sick in his hotel room? And that, a few times, it was so bad he was unable to even get out of bed? That was nothing out of the ordinary for any one of the Backstreet Boys.  
  
Slowly, a spark lit in Brian's mind and he jumped out of his seat as if he'd been burned. Pacing the floor, he rubbed his hand across his scalp.  
  
 _Of course! Drugs!_ The reason why AJ was usually sick in the morning? Hangovers. Why he seemed to be wasting away yet was always eating? Pot, cocaine, heroin? Why the bags under his eyes seemed so large and dark? Of course. AJ was an addict; that had to be it. Brian knew he had no clue as to why or even what AJ had been using but he was certain that was why he left.  
  
Finally feeling reconnected with the man who'd disappeared on him, he sat back in front his computer with a blank browser staring into his face. He had to formulate his research plan first... Rehab? Escaping temptation? Why did AJ leave, what was he searching for?  
  
Brian hesitated, chewing on his thumb nail, before typing the words "drug rehabilitation centers" into his search bar and patiently waiting for it to load.  
  
It was an hour later when Brian heard the front door push open and high heels click across their hardwood floors. He cringed inwardly; he hated that sound. Wrapping up the last email he was writing to the administration of one of the facilities he found, he closed his laptop, popping the last bite of egg sandwich into his mouth.  
  
"Good morning, baby!" Leighanne hollered cheerfully, walking into the kitchen. She leaned down over Brian, trying to give him a kiss hello.  
  
He pulled back from her and gestured to his mouth, knowing she'd understand that he was chewing. He puckered his lips around the food and leaned back in to give her a peck on the cheek. Swallowing, he stood, crumbling the tin-foil into a ball as he walked to the trash can. "How was breakfast?"  
  
She smiled, clicking her way to the island in the center of the room. She placed her pocketbook down on top of it, digging her hand down the side. With a small, "Ah-ha!", she pulled free the object she was looking for. "Breakfast was great, though the girls are getting antsy about knowing the date."  
  
"I'm sorry—" he started but she cut him off.  
  
"Anyway, one of the girls gave me this to look through at lunch, and Brian? There's a venue in here that'd be perfect for us! The church isn't too far, and it's huge..." She proceeded, dropping the magazine on the island in front of him.  
  
Brian's ears seemed to clog up for him as he listened to her speak. Suddenly, her voice had disappeared from the room and all he could hear was his rapid heart beating. He reached out to grab the wedding magazine, feeling almost like time had slowed down as he finally wrapped his fingers around the spine. He pulled it closer and spun it around, taking in the circled wedding dress on the front cover.  
  
"Brian? Are you listening?" He heard distantly before her voice droned on again.  
  
He flipped the magazine open, finally realizing how truly wrong they were for one another. How had it taken him this long? He'd even proposed!  
  
Her hand was suddenly on the page before him, flipping even further into the book to find the church she'd been talking about. Her ring glared sunlight into his eyes. Even once she finished turning pages and simply continued to point at different pictures, Brian could only see that ring.  
  
"So I called and guess what! They've got an opening September second! It's their only availability the rest of the year and I really don't want to wait anymore. That good, Brian?" She asked.  
  
His ears finally opened, only hearing the last few words she'd spoken. He looked up at her, having no clue what she'd asked, before hurrying to agree. "Sounds good, baby." He smiled at her.  
  
"Yea!" She cheered, clapping her hands together and walking around the island to pull him into a hug. "September second it is then! I'm so happy we've finally set a date, Brian!"  
  
Staring wide-eyed over her shoulder, his arms tensed jerkily around her. He prayed she hadn't felt that as he swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "Yea!" He whispered back hoarsely.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After this chapter we're going to slowly get into the action. I'm trying to really build everyone's character's in this story so that, if I wanted to, they could all stand alone. Hope you're all enjoying still...

Blonde hair draped into his drink, blue eyes half shut, his head resting on a relaxed fist. Nick looked practically asleep, the alcohol in front of him barely touched.   
  
Howie pushed at his shoulder and the younger man almost tumbled to the floor. "Don't get us kicked out."   
  
"Kicked out?" Nick mumbled. He sat up tall and clenched his fists around the seat of the chair below him. "We ain't being unruly, man. Why would they kick us out?"   
  
"Cause you're underage," Howie bit out in a low breath, "and you're falling asleep in your drink." He thumbed at the edge of the glass in front of him.   
  
"Oh," Nick said reluctantly. "I guess you got a point then." He picked up his drink and drank down what was left. "You wanna go somewhere, dude?"   
  
"Where we would go?"   
  
"I don't know. Just figured... I can't just keep sitting here." Howie continued thumbing the glass in front of him. "I need to go do something. I can't just sit here and—"   
  
"And what, Nick? AJ wasn't just _your_ brother."   
  
Nick looked up at Howie with hurt glistening in his eyes. "I know that. You don't think I know that?" His voice cracked. "It's different, man. I'm his only little brother. I can't just sit back and—" Nick's breath caught in his throat and he looked away from Howie. His lower lip trembled before he sucked it between his teeth.   
  
Howie sighed, lifting a hand to rub soothingly across Nick's back. "You're right. All our relationships were different with him; we can't compare one to the other. You don't think the older brother in me isn't dying to find him and protect him?"   
  
"I never said that. I know I'd feel the same if it was Aaron or one of the girls." He breathed in deep and let it out as slow as he could. "Think I'm ready for bed now." He smiled wryly.   
  
"Dude, it's three in the afternoon." Howie laughed. Nick just turned to look at him with sad eyes, his smile sunken. "Alright, come on." He said, dropping some cash on the counter and leading the younger man out to his car.   
  
It had been a week since they announced their end, a week since Howie's display of despair, and Howie had been sitting by the phone in his house ever since. Denise had never called him back and he was rightfully beginning to get restless. Thankfully, that morning, Nick had shown up on his doorstep with an overnight bag, complaining about it being too quiet and too lonely where he was in Tampa on his own. Howie welcomed him immediately into his house, setting up the guest bedroom before they went out to one of his local favorites for lunch. He pulled out of the bar's parking lot, headed towards home.   
  
Nick tiredly leaned towards Howie's side of the car, resting his head against his older brother's shoulder. "It makes me feel better that I'm not going through this alone." He whispered, barely loud enough for Howie to hear.   
  
He lifted one hand off the steering wheel and gently patted Nick's head. "You should go grab a nap once we get to the house. I've got some errands to run anyway, so you won't be missing much."   
  
"Might take you up on that." He mumbled, straightening himself out and leaning back into his seat. "Haven't slept well in a year."   
  
Howie scoffed, "Tell me about it."   
  
"Dude, you don't know... AJ was the only one of y'all who treated me like an equal." He said, half asleep in his seat. "Didn't make me feel so dumb when I pronounced something wrong or missed a step. When we were younger and I was homesick he used to sing me to sleep."   
  
Shock riddled through Howie at that, not having known what his best friend had really been towards Nick. He must've hid it well, or Howie must've never really paid attention, but their friendship never seemed that tight. AJ never seemed like Nick's protector before.   
  
"One time," he yawned, "in Manchester, we were out at a bar, all five of us, and these guys in the back of the place were giving me a hard time. I must've been sixteen, man; you remember me at sixteen, all gangly and shit. Anyway," his head fell onto the window with a light thud. "AJ came outta nowhere, all lankily limbs and got me outta there. I swear I think he even hit one of the guys. Anyway, AJ decided he and I were gonna leave and when we got outside I was sure he was gonna curse me out for what happened but he just hugged me, real tight, and then we left for the hotel. You guys were all still out but AJ stayed with me that whole night."   
  
Howie gulped, blinking back his own tears, finally realizing how much damage AJ's disappearance did to all of them. Even with the year that had passed, he'd honestly felt like he was the one most affected; AJ was _his_ best friend, and they were close. When did AJ have all this time for everyone else? Why hadn't he and the guys discussed these things sooner? He wondered how much less pain he'd have felt in the past year if he had known all the guys had been feeling it right there with him... He reached over to the passenger seat and patted Nick's leg, the younger man breathing soft shaky breaths against the window pane.   
  
AJ had the time because AJ always gave all of himself. He would've pushed himself to his limits, over and over again, trying to be there for every one of them, before worrying about his own needs once again. He was known to go to bed late, get up early when need be, never skip a meal... Howie wondered how his friend had truly done it; he must've been exhausted.   
  
Maybe he was just really tired then and needed a break? But that didn't sound like AJ... AJ longed to be needed, loved to be wanted around. If he was exhausted he would've just said so, not just run away from them.   
  
Howie sighed, pulling into his driveway and turning the engine off. He sat there for a moment to recollect his thoughts before leaning over and nudging Nick, who seemed to have fallen asleep somewhere along their ride, awake. "Come on, man. We're back at my house."   
  
Nick blearily looked up at him, his eyes half-slated and lids sticking together. He mumbled a soft, "Thanks," while rubbing at his eyes and opened the door. He stumbled up both the pathway and steps leading to Howie's front door, leaning against the house while Howie worked the lock. "Gon' go straight to bed, man." He mumbled, falling inside once Howie had it open.   
  
"You look like the walking dead; definitely a good idea you do that." He smiled wryly, heading into his kitchen alone while Nick stumbled up his staircase.   
  
Passing by the answering machine, Howie hit the play button. He listened to the messages as he scoured his fridge, checking for food they could make for dinner. He smiled, seeing he had burgers and hot dogs, thinking barbecue did sound tasty. He grabbed a beer off the fridge shelf and stood back up, quickly opening it and heading out back.   
  
He slumped himself into a chair at the edge of his property, the pool behind him, staring out at the huge expanse of land. He'd bought this place for that reason only. Howie had been assured by multiple realtors and multiple attorneys that, that land was too unstable to build on and would always stay empty. His quiet haven, he often escaped to this spot to watch land stretch before him, much like time that stretched by the world. He startled, a good thirty minutes later, as the glass doors to the house were slid haphazardly open. Cringing when the metal slammed into the other pane of glass, he finally turned around.   
  
Nick walked drunkenly over to the pool, his legs flailing as if he were a baby duckling, before plopping himself at the edge to stick his feet in. He wiped a hand down his face, clearing the crust from the corners of his eyes, and blinking against he harsh light. He laid back against the concrete surrounding the pool, keeping his feet in the water.   
  
Howie sighed, pushing himself out of his chair and heading over with his empty beer bottle. He fell into the space next to Nick, taking off a sock to stick one foot in as well. "How'd you sleep?"   
  
"Didn't." He mumbled. "Too much on my mind."   
  
"I know what you mean."   
  
"I hoped talking to you would'a helped me, man. Did shit." He laughed.   
  
Howie laughed, too. "Whether it helps or not, you know I'm here."   
  
"I know." Nick smiled, reaching his hand back to pat Howie's. "Any plans for dinner?"   
  
"I've got some food we can barbecue later, or whenever really."   
  
"Sounds tasty." He lifted his foot out of the water and wriggled his body around so he could watch as he drew random patterns across the surface. "About earlier, man?" He asked softly. "I didn't mean to say that my relationship with J was any better—"   
  
"Don't even apologize, man." Howie sighed, moving his hand to pat Nick's arm. "I was foolish to think I was the only one of you guys close to him. It just felt like he was always only around me and I was kind of blindsided to learn that he wasn't." He kicked his leg out, splashing the water. "He must've been exhausted."   
  
"He was. Towards the end of tour he was walking around like a zombie. I used to hear him throwing up all hours of the day... I think all our drama was making him sick. Think we kind of forced him to leave..."   
  
"What do you mean?" Howie asked, stunned by Nick's revelation.   
  
"I just mean," he let out a frustrated sound, running one hand through his hair. "When was the last time you asked him how he was? I mean, I know I did it, from time to time, but I also had weeks where I just forgot to ask. I feel like shit about that."   
  
He thought back, long and hard about what Nick said. He was surprised to find the other man right; he couldn't remember, _at all,_ the last time he'd asked AJ just for the hell of it how he was. Howie knew he'd forced the issue in the last few weeks of tour, arguing with AJ about how he never did anything anymore and all the countless _"what the fuck is wrong with you?"_ 's he'd yelled at the younger man. He hung his head, wondering how much of a friend he'd really been in the end. "I'm am asshole," he mumbled into his hands, having cupped his face in his palms.   
  
"No you're not." Nick sat up. He moved closer to Howie, fitting his shoulder against the older man's and leaning into him. "It wasn't just you. Maybe I just noticed cause I was trying to give him space but it wasn't just you. Kev and Bri were also doing it. I kind of feel like that might be part of why he left."   
  
"Cause we wouldn't stop nagging him?"   
  
"Cause you guys were no longer his friends. You didn't care about his wellbeing anymore, it was just 'Get your shit together, J, we've got a show,' or an interview or whatever the fuck it was."   
  
"But we all love him, and care about him." Howie said desperately.   
  
"But when did you last show him that?" Nick sighed. "I'm not trying to come down on you, and I'm not attacking. I'm just trying to get you to see the bigger picture."   
  
"Which is that we fucked up." He scoffed. "It's okay, Nick, you can say it. We all really fucked up. We drove him away."   
  
"I didn't say—"   
  
"You didn't have to." Howie pushed himself off the pool deck and stumbled towards his door. "I'm going to do whatever I can to get him back here. I promise, Nicky."   
  
"Howie!" He called out, quickly pushing himself to stand as well. He hurried towards the older man and wrapped his arms around him tight. "I'm sorry. I...I—"   
  
"It's okay, Nick," he squeezed back, dropping his face into the younger man's neck. "I'm sorry, too. It's okay."   
  
"I really didn't mean that you did anything." He said, wet breaths coating the expanse of Howie's throat. "I just meant that, all of us, you know? We all did it, even if we didn't wanna."   
  
"I know." He soothed, running a hand up and down the younger man's back. "I get it. I really do. It's just really not pleasant to hear."   
  
Nick laughed through his tears, the sound catching in his throat. "Why you think I needed to get outta Tampa? I can't keep thinking about it. I'm going to drive myself crazy if I do." He said, pulling away and brushed at his eyes. He ran the top part of his hand under his nose as he sniffed, wiping the wetness on his jean-clad leg.   
  
"So, burgers?" Howie asked cautiously.   
  
"Only if I get to work the grill." Nick smiled.   
  
Howie laughed as he turned to walk inside. "You wish you're getting your hands on that propane tank."   
  
"Awe, com'on, Howie!" Nick whined, following him inside.   
  
Howie just laughed, continuing his way to his kitchen. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, finally; some progress for the boys in their search. I'm already at work on the next chapter and I anticipate posting it by next weekend. I hope you all enjoy and still like where the story's going. 
> 
> For the timeline: I've been trying to create the timeline in the story to avoid having to "date" every passage, but in case it's not clear, this chapter takes place roughly two weeks after Denise flew home to Florida, and Nick has gone back to Tampa as well.

The baby monitor sat quiet against his hip with the occasional white noise bleeding through. He sat silent as well, between a mass of clothes strewn across his bed. He'd been in his room for the first time in the two weeks since his mother left, after getting Presley down for his nap, finally getting around to the daily chores he had been putting off.   
  
He'd been in and out of his bedroom since his mom had left, sure, but never for too long. Still, he didn't know how he had missed the piece of paper. Alex was just thankful he'd decided to sort his clothes before running the laundry or he'd have never had the chance to read it.   
  
_'Backstreet Boys Show Us The Meaning Of Being Lonely'_   
  
The article started so dreary, so haphazardly, that Alex almost cringed as he read through. His brothers really had no clue why he had left... Somehow, even though he never told them, a part of him thought that they would've figured it out. They hadn't, and their various theories were laid out now on the paper before him.   
  
What had he done?   
  
_'AJ McLean of the Backstreet Boys was reported missing in early June of 1999 after completing a long leg of their highly anticipated Millennium stage show. McLean, 22, returned home to Florida where, a short time later, he soon went missing._   
  
_'"We've tried everything we could think of to locate him. Howie's (Dorough, 26) had multiple private investigators dealing with the matter; Brian (Littrell, 25) and I have been scouring numerous tabloid magazines and calling agencies to see if they've spotted him. Nick (Carter, 20) has been our rock through this, he's really keeping all our heads on straight."'_   
  
That sounded so unusual to Alex. Nick? His Nick, keeping the other guys' heads on straight? Nick was never a rock, never a mediator. That was Brian's job...   
  
_'The search has continued much of the same for the past year. The Boys' have enlisted the help of fans, news agencies and the police, all to no avail._   
  
_'Running low on steam to keep themselves in the hunt, and without knowing their "brother's" wishes, the remaining four members of the band have decided to call it quits. The oldest member, Kevin Richardson, 28, spoke on this matter when the Boys' recently appeared on NBC, "He may've chosen to disappear but he's still a part of this; he's still our brother. We can't make the choice to continue without him, not without knowing how he'd feel."'_   
  
That wasn't what Alex had wanted at all. He felt stunned and shocked to the core, tears running rampant down his face as he read. He grabbed the pillow off the bed behind him and chucked it aimlessly, as hard as he could.   
  
He left so they could keep going without him! So he wasn't hindering their success or livelihoods! He stepped out of the limelight to keep their careers going, not ruin them as well! That argument seemed to be moot now and he sucked his bottom lip in between his teeth as he finished reading.   
  
_'"We haven't given up hope, we are still trying to exhaust some of our last options, but we feel like its time to come to terms with what this all means." Dorough said._   
  
_"The four of us have decided, until further notice, that this is the end." Richardson stated. The other two members of the band had stayed eerily silent during the televised interview, this reporter can only guess it was to keep their emotions in check._   
  
_'The normally happy-faced band members had wiped at their eyes multiple time during the length of the interview and not one had smiled. There can only be assumptions at this point for what happened to second youngest member, AJ McLean, seeing as no body has been found and not one sighting of him reported. It's a complete mystery how a member of one of the largest Boy Bands of the nineties can simply disappear._   
  
_'The future of the band is not set in stone, as Richardson pointed out. If McLean is found alive there is the potential of the band reuniting, but the alternative thought is simply too much for this reporter, and fan, to bare.'_   
  
What had he done?   
  
Shakily, Alex reached through the mess around him to the nightstand beside his bed. He flipped his cell phone open, unsure if it would even work, and powered it on. He wiped at his eyes with the hand still holding the article and continued to sniff back his tears, trying to stem his crying.   
  
He dialed his mom's number and brought the phone to his ear, letting out a sob-like sound once he heard her voice. "Mom!"   
  
"Alex? Alex, what's wrong? Baby, calm down, you need to tell me what's wrong!" She spoke in a panicked voice.   
  
He cried out hard into the line. "I l-le-left them, Mom! A-and th-they don't even know w-why! A-a-and they br-broke up cause of me! I never wanted that!"   
  
"Oh, sweetie..." Denise sighed. "You found the article I left on your bed."   
  
"M-mom, th-this wasn't what was s'posed to happen!" His voice was high-pitched and loud, Alex practically screaming through the line to get his words out.   
  
"I know, baby. I know you never intended this. I hope you can see now how much these boys really do love you."   
  
"What am I supposed to do?" He asked, choking down his tears.   
  
"Call them. Any one of them." She said softly.   
  
He sniffed hard, leaning his forehead against the back of his hand still holding the article. "Can you do that for me?"   
  
Denise sighed an almost happy sound, grateful something finally broke through to her son. "Of course I can, baby. Who do you want me to call?"   
  
"How-Howie." He said cautiously. "Can, can you have him come up here?"   
  
"You want him to fly up there?" She asked surprised, having not expected that.   
  
"Yeah. I'll set up your room for him, if you don't mind. I just," his voice broke. "I can't—"   
  
"Of course it's fine, Alex! I'm just surprised you want him up there so soon."   
  
He sniffed. "I just don't think he'd understand it all, if he didn't see it for himself."   
  
"What about the others, Alex? I doubt if Howie will just disappear on them for days. What about _him?_ "   
  
"I'm thinking on that still." He moved his hand against his forehead, finally having calmed down some. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and took a shaky breath. "If I can show Howie, and have him on my side, then I can tell the other guys... _him._ "   
  
"They're all going to know who Presley's father is as soon as they see him, baby. He's the spitting image of—"   
  
"I know," he sighed. "Call me after you've talked to him, okay? I'm going to keep my phone on now; for good."   
  
"I'm proud of you, baby."   
  
"Thank you, Mom."   
  
"I'll call you soon, sweetie. Bye." She said before hanging up.   
  
Alex sighed, flipping his phone shut as he pulled it away from his ear. He couldn't believe they'd given it all up for him, just because they didn't know how he'd feel if they had continued on. Part of him truly didn't know how to digest that information.   
  
He knew they'd loved him, he loved them, but he'd been living in such a cocoon that he couldn't see how much they really cared. He wondered now what the explanation for their calls stopping would be; had they just felt that option was exhausted? Were they taking the advice of police or one of the investigators to stop? He wiped his fingers down the corners of his lips, rubbing the gunk off his hands over the edge of the bed.   
  
He felt like such a fool now.   
  
Alex slowly climbed off the bed, stretching his limbs back out, when he heard Presley softly murmuring through the line. He hurried to his room and smiled, seeing his son tentatively crawling across the bottom of his crib.   
  
He quickly reached for the video camera he kept stashed in one of the changing table draws and switched it on. He laughed and his son looked up at him with a smile on his face. Alex put the camera down quick and lifted Presley out of his crib before setting him down on the floor. He grabbed the camera again and laid out in front of him, making sure to save this for his mom to see, and now possibly _him_.   
  
•••   
  
"Mr. Dorough?"   
  
"This is he," Howie answered, pushing his drink away and cupping his hand around his mouth and phone.   
  
"This is detective Modor. We've got a hit on one of the IDs you gave us. It came in about two weeks ago."   
  
Howie grabbed his drink again and downed what remained before pushing his way out of the bar. He stumbled over to his car, talking all the while. "Which ID?"   
  
"The woman's. A Ms. Denise McLean."   
  
He put the key in the ignition and started the car, quickly pulling out and driving in the direction of home. "Where was her ID used?"   
  
"That's what took us the two weeks to reach out to you, had to verify the information we received. She flew out of New Hampshire International Airport. Traveled to Orlando, Florida."   
  
"She came home?" He asked himself, practically dumbfounded by the revelation. He shook his head and cleared his throat. "This is amazing news. Any other details?" He asked the investigator on the phone.   
  
"Unfortunately not. We've been tracking this ID for months though and I have to say that this office was a little nervous we'd ever get some information for you. I'm just glad something finally came back to us."   
  
Howie sighed, half elated and partially deflated, unsure how to finally take getting some information. "Thank you so much for letting me know about this. Please contact me if you find anything further."   
  
"Will do, sir. Good luck in your search."   
  
Howie dropped the phone, letting it fall into his passenger seat before pulling into his driveway. He quickly made a break for his house, parking the car and running up the steps. Swinging the door open, he ran through the front hall, finally skidding to a stop in his kitchen.   
  
There, on the small box attached to his house phone, was a blinking red light. He gulped and blinked once, twice, three times, before slowly walking towards the machine. He hit the play button, his heart slowly sinking in his chest with each new message he heard. He should've known she wouldn't have called.   
  
"Howie, sweetheart." He jumped, eyes wide in shock and his mouth slacked.   
  
"It's-it's Denise. I'm back in town, and no, Alex is not with me. I'm," he heard her sigh, "I'm sorry I couldn't keep in touch better. I did get all your messages. Listen, give me a few days, I have some things I need to handle, but I'd like to get together if you have some free time this week. You have my number, dear."   
  
Shaking his head, Howie stuck a finger in his ear and wiggled it a few times in disbelief. A year, he thought, _a whole goddamn year_ , but there it was. Finally, a light in the dense smog that surrounded his best friend's disappearance. After so long, it barely felt real, and Howie found himself pressing play on the small machine again.   
  
When Denise's voice rang through a second time, confirming he had not, in fact, imagined the call, he leaned down and kissed the small box. He hurried back out to his car and grabbed his cell phone. Once again walking inside, he made his way back into his kitchen, dialing a number on his cell.   
  
"Kev, it's D." He said, once the groggy voice picked up. He took a glance towards the clock on the kitchen cable box and winced, seeing how late it was. "Sorry if I woke you, bud."   
  
Kevin cleared his throat, shifting himself onto his elbow in the bed. He briefly felt Kristin tap his arm and relented, pulling the covers off himself and heading out of their bedroom. "It's okay, man. What's up?"   
  
Howie found himself fiddling his fingers together, cradling the phone to his ear with his shoulder. He brought one hand up to his mouth and bit on his thumb nail. "Just," he said around his finger, "just listen."   
  
Kevin felt himself get dizzy as he listened to the woman's voice play over the line and quickly sank into his office chair. "No way."   
  
"I know, I don't believe it, Kev. I got a call from one of the investigators tonight and I rushed home just to see if she called. She did, Kevin." Howie said excitedly.   
  
"Slow down a little, man. Why'd the investigator call you?"   
  
"There was a hit on her ID. It was her flying home to Orlando."   
  
"Where'd she fly out of?" Kevin asked, pressing the tab on his laptop to open the computer. He tapped the space bar twice and waited for it to load.   
  
"An airport in New Hampshire. He didn't have any more info than that."   
  
"This is the most information we've gotten in a year, I could care less if he didn't even know where she came from. Listen," he said, tapping some letters on the keyboard. "You need to meet up with her. Let it be on her schedule, I don't care, but make sure she doesn't get out of meeting with you. I want you to call me right after, too. Maybe she'll give up some info on where J is."   
  
Howie sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know that she will. She got all my calls, Kev, and this was the first I've heard from her."   
  
"I know, D. We're going to find him, though."   
  
"I just hope you're right." He said softly through the line.   
  
"I know I am, man. We're gonna get him back." He said, squinting his eyes to make out a few lines of text on his screen. "You said New Hampshire International, right?"   
  
"Yeah," Howie said, turning off the lights on his way up to his bedroom.   
  
"Okay." Kevin said. He paused before repeating himself. "Okay, got it. There's a flight booked for you and me up to New Hampshire International for next weekend. You should meet up with her before that." He pressed the key to print his confirmation. "Get any information out of her that you can. The more precise, the better, but anything that will help us find him once we get up there."   
  
Howie sighed through the line, feeling relief course through every nerve of his body as he sank down onto his mattress, fully clothed. "Thanks, Kev. For keeping a level head."   
  
"Thanks for getting this much word back, you little butt-munch." Kevin laughed.   
  
Howie let out a painful sound and slapped his hand over his eyes. "Will you ever stop with that nickname?"   
  
"Not until the day I die, and I'll make sure to haunt you from the grave with it."   
  
"Prick."   
  
"You love me."   
  
"Only cause I was forced to, Kev." Howie laughed. "Alright, I'm going to try to get some shuteye."   
  
"I think I will, too. See, there was this little butt-munch of a Latino man who made me get out of a warm bed that was filled with my gorgeous fiancé."   
  
"Thanks for rubbing that part in, jackass. I'll call you as soon as I hear from her; I'm going to give her a call tomorrow to set up lunch." He said, his eyes slowly crusting over with sleep.   
  
"Hang up first, man." Kevin smiled through the line. "And thanks, D. I'll sleep a lot easier knowing this happened."   
  
Kevin's only response was a light snore through the line. He yelled into the receiver for Howie to hand up again before hanging up his phone himself. He made his way back into his bedroom and crept under the covers, spooning his body back around Kristin's. He fell asleep with a smile on his face. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who have commented and given this story kudos; I can't tell you enough how happy it makes me to know that others are enjoying this ride. This week is going to be really busy for me so I may not get the next chapter up until the weekend or next week (not much different than my current update timetable lol but still wanted to let you all know). Hope you enjoy this chapter and where this roller coaster is heading.

"Denise!" Howie called, waving from where he sat at an outdoor table for two. He'd gotten a great seat at this restaurant, the table having one of the best views overlooking the lake. He hoped it'd help him score some points with Denise and help her loosen up enough to really talk.   
  
She smiled in his direction and walked over, clutching her purse in front of her body. "Howard, dear." She said once she reached the table.   
  
Howie couldn't help the smile that split his face. He'd been so certain she wasn't going to show that he had been mentally preparing himself for it since they set up lunch a few days ago. He stood and pulled her into his arms, hugging her as tight as he could manage. "You have no idea how much I've missed you." He whispered into her neck and squeezed.   
  
She smiled, pecking his cheek with a kiss as she pulled back. "I missed you, too." She sat in the chair across from his, gently rocking back up to the table edge.   
  
Howie lifted a hand in the direction of the waiter. He smiled at Denise, "I'll have a coke and the lady?"   
  
"Just water, please." She said, taking her napkin off her plate and shaking it onto her lap. The waiter nodded before walking off. "Why don't we order first and then get to talking, sweetie?"   
  
He laughed nervously but nodded his head, flipping his menu open. "The nachos here are to die for, as is their salsa. You really can't go wrong with either of those."   
  
"Sounds yummy." She said, looking down at her own. The waiter came back a few minutes later with their drinks and took out his pad to take their order.   
  
Once he walked away with their menus tucked under his arm, Howie felt his body become light and prickly. He sat nervously staring at anything but Denise, fiddling his fingers together. "So, uh..." His voice cracked.   
  
Denise sighed and leaned into her elbows that were resting on the table. "Alex asked me to call you." She said softly.   
  
Howie's eyes snapped to her's in disbelief and he let out a woosh of air.   
  
"He's, hmm... How do I put this?" She asked herself. "First off, he's okay. More than okay, okay?"   
  
Howie laughed at how she put that, thinking she sounded an awful lot like her son. "I hoped he was. But every time I think that he is, it gets me a little frustrated that he left." He frowned, "I want there to be a reason why."   
  
"There is." She said uneasily. "I'm not really sure how much he wants me to tell you. He does want to see you. He wants to show you why he left. You could be the 'make or break it' piece to bring him home." Denise leaned back in her seat and clasped her hands together. "There was a reason and trust me, he didn't leave because he wanted to. He honestly felt like that was his only option."   
  
" _Why_ would that have been his only option?"   
  
Denise paused as the waiter came back with their food. She grabbed the salt shaker from the center of the table and shook it over her plate as she spoke. "Why he left had, and _still could have,_ bad repercussions. It could cause you guys to split up, and possibly cause you to hate him. He didn't want to ruin your careers, too."   
  
"Ruin our careers?" Howie asked, feeling heat singeing the tips of his ears. He slammed his hand down on the table, drawing looks from other patrons. "All of us could care less about our _careers_."   
  
"I know that, sweetie. But Alex is a bit more hardheaded. You know that."   
  
"I never realized what a moron my best friend was." Howie grumbled under his breath, lifting his fork to dig into his meal.   
  
Denise sighed and started to eat as well. "Anyway, he'd like it if you flew up to see him. He's living in Vermont now."   
  
"Why can't he come here?" He spit a little angrily.   
  
"Howie, dear, I love you but you're being a bit obnoxious now."   
  
He sighed and dropped his fork, looking down at the table. "Sorry."   
  
"It's okay," she smiled, reaching across the table to grab his hand. "I really think you'll understand everything as soon as you see him. He's going to put on a brave face when you do but trust me that he's been dying inside. He misses all of you so much."   
  
"He could have called, he could have answered one of our calls, he could have—"   
  
She tugged on his hand. "That's all over now. What's important is that you love him and when you see him, you try to place yourself in his shoes to really understand why. I've been a bit perturbed myself that he left you boys but I do understand why. I think you need that."   
  
"I think we all need that." He shook his hand gently from her grasp and grabbed his fork again, digging in. "Why just me?"   
  
"Because he trusts that you'll understand the most." Denise sighed, beginning to eat again. "He thinks you're the only one that still cares about him." She raised her hand not holding the fork and shook her head when he opened his mouth to talk. "I know that's crazy sounding and I don't believe it for a second."   
  
"Why in the world would he think that?" Howie asked, pain resonating in his voice.   
  
"Put yourself in his shoes, Howie. Everyone stopped calling, mostly you and Kevin called when you guys still were. He thought you all gave up and were happy without him. Then you were the only one who tried calling me." She grabbed her napkin and wiped off her mouth, pushing her plate out of the way. "I don't believe his logic for a second that you're the only one who cares. He and I both saw the article. That's what prompted this lunch."   
  
Howie sighed, closing his eyes and letting his body simply relax in relief. "Then he knows what we did."   
  
"He called me crying his eyes out, sweetie. He's been much more emotional in the last year but you know Alex doesn't cry for much. He never wanted you guys to break up over this."   
  
"What were we supposed to do?" He exclaimed, his voice dark and defensive. "Just go on continuing like everything was okay? We're all emotional _wrecks_ thanks to him leaving."   
  
"I'm completely on your sides. I've been trying to get him to see it since he left but he couldn't believe you all loved him, or even tolerated him that much."   
  
Howie hung his head, knowing how insecure his friend was and feeling like he'd been helping to feed that demon. "When can I go see him?"   
  
Denise smiled, reaching across the table for his hand again. "As soon as you want. He doesn't want anyone else knowing right now so I'm going to tell you where to fly to and he'll wind up sending a car to get you."   
  
"Where is he living now?"   
  
"Vermont." She laughed at the perplexed look that came over his face. Obviously he had just as hard a time grasping why someone who complained when it was fifty degrees out would move to a cold place. "Dress warm, there's still a small chill in the air up there."   
  
"I'll look at the weather before I pack." He laughed. "Which airport?"   
  
"New Hampshire International, it's the closest one to his cabin."   
  
Howie bit his lip and looked away, wondering if he should tell her. He sighed, "Um, Kevin already booked a flight for me and him to fly there. I called him after I got your message and a call from one of the investigators and he booked it 'cause we didn't know how much you would share. I think he was willing to head up and search the whole state on foot." Howie laughed.   
  
Denise pulled her hand back and worriedly ran it through her hair. "I really don't think he's ready to see Kevin yet but if there's already a flight booked, I can let him know. I really hope it doesn't change his mind."   
  
"We could not let him know and just have Kev tag along?" He suggested.   
  
"And wind up ambushing him? No, that doesn't make sense even though I know your intentions are good." She reached over to pat his hand. "I'll let him know it'll be you and Kevin and just hope for the best."   
  
Howie smiled uneasily, hoping this didn't ruin his chance to fly up there. "I could ask him to cancel?" He offered.   
  
"And waste good money?" She laughed. "I know you boys have some to spare but you shouldn't be wasting it. No, Alex will just have to deal with this." She nodded determinedly.   
  
"Anything I should be preparing myself for? Is he still healthy and in one piece? Nothing mentally wrong, a missing leg?" He joked.   
  
Denise laughed, "He's still all in one piece but there is a little more of him to love now."   
  
"Really? I'd have bet he'd kept his workouts up no matter what. He was so proud to show off that six pack as soon as he got it."   
  
"Well, he didn't really have a choice," Denise laughed, knowing Howie wouldn't catch the real reason. "It's tough to keep a Backstreet Boy's body when you're not singing and dancing all the time."   
  
"Tell me about it." Howie said, leaning back in his seat and glaring downward. He poked at his protruding belly. "I've been losing it as well."   
  
"Trust me, sweetie, we all do."   
  
"Anyway," he said, taking the last few bites off his plate, "the flight Kevin booked was for Friday so..."   
  
She smiled. "I'll tell him to expect you both that evening. Do you know what time the flight is supposed to land?"   
  
"I'm not sure. I know Kevin forwarded me the confirmation email he received but I didn't actually read it over." He smiled at her sheepishly, "I have to admit that I was with him in thinking you wouldn't give this much."   
  
"Don't worry, sweetie." She scooted around the table and cupped his cheek in her hand. "Even if Alex hadn't called me, I would've set this up. I know he's happy but I couldn't watch him keep destroying himself. He needs you boys; always has, always will."   
  
Howie smiled with tears glistening in his eyes. "Thank you, Denise."   
  
"Thank you for loving my boy like a brother."   
  
He cupped his hand over hers and breathed deep to suppress the tears. "He deserves nothing less."   
  
"Good, now maybe you can convince him of that." She joked, pulling away and reaching for her water glass.   
  
"Nothing will get through to that hard head." He laughed.   
  
"He takes after his father with that." She winked at him, knowing Howie knew full-well that Alex had gotten that from her. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all my readers for your understanding with the delay of posting this chapter; last week was really busy for me. Just some more things starting to fall into place in this chapter and it's just leading us towards the rest of the story. I hope everyone enjoys and is still liking where this is heading...

The hand on his arm jerked him from his soft litany. Turning away from the window, he found the flight attendant staring at him sympathetically and he subconsciously pulled his arm back from her grasp.   
  
"Mr. Littrell?" She asked quietly.   
  
Brian nodded at her, his eyes shining and face pale.   
  
She gave him a small smile, trying to help calm the nerves she could see swimming in his eyes. "While I think you have an angelic voice, and do love hearing it, most of the other first class passengers don't."   
  
Brian blushed and turned to look around, suddenly remembering where he was and how much he'd been talking to himself. He hated flying and usually did so with a sleeping pill in his system; he'd hopped on the plane so last minute that there hadn't been any time for that. He barely had a complete overnight bag with him, let alone having prepared for the actual flight. He cleared his throat and sheepishly looked back at her, his cheeks flaming. "I'm sorry, I'll keep it down."   
  
"No worries, sir. Thank you for your understanding." She smiled again before walking back into the flight attendant's hold.   
  
He turned back to the window, making sure to keep his mouth shut this time. The window seat was the last seat out of Georgia on only a short plane ride back up to Kentucky, so he'd taken whatever he could get. To help ease his fears for the ride, he'd been repeating a speech — apparently out loud — that he knew he'd be saying to a lot of different people over the course of the next few days, always having to explain himself and his reasons why.   
  
He'd woken up that morning, just days after breaking things off with Leighanne, with a heaviness in his heart. He felt terrible, having done that. Here she had been ready to promise her life to him and he couldn't accept her. It left him feeling rung out and stale, like a heartless creature. She left right after he broke it off, and he endured a couple of days of her relatives coming by to pick up her things, but he couldn't take their whispering or glaring anymore. He needed to go home; he needed to feel loved and _good_ again.   
  
The pilot's voice rang over the intercom, they were approaching the airport and would be landing momentarily. Brian still hadn't figured out if he was better off going to his parents place or Kevin's. He didn't want to disturb Kevin and Kristin but he knew he'd have an endless line of questions to answer if he went to his parents; he didn't quite feel ready for those just yet.   
  
With his mind made up he impatiently waited for the plane to land. One of the first out of their seats, Brian stuck his hand into the overhead bin, pulling out his overnight bag. He bounced on his heels in the aisle, waiting for the few people in front of him to walk out. He needed off that plane and out of that space. He needed to run.   
  
Once the line started to move and he was finally out of the gate, he took off, sprinting his way across the airport towards the car rentals. He hadn't called anyone — _he hadn't planned this_ — and he wasn't about to pay for the hour long cab ride. Out of breath and in desperation mode, he ran up to the first rental counter he saw, skipping the small line of people that were already cursing at him.   
  
"Sorry," he panted. "I'm in a big rush. I know I just pissed off a whole bunch of people but please don't send me to the back of the line."   
  
The young woman behind the counter chuckled and glanced behind him at the angry people. "That's a pretty scary mob you're asking me to take on for you." She smirked, looking him up and down, "You'd definitely be worth it, though. Pass me your ID as quick as you can." She said, hurriedly throwing papers together.   
  
Brian smiled gratefully at her and grabbed his wallet, throwing his ID and a credit card on the counter. "Any car you've got, any price; whatever gets me out of here before they turn." He joked.   
  
She punched a few keys into her computer before swiveling her desk chair to the hooks of keys at the back wall. She grabbed one set and swung herself back to the computer, swiping Brian's credit card before handing it and the keys to him across the counter. Standing, she motioned for Brian to join her at the printer. "You're going to head to the parking lot behind this office and down the second row of cars. There's a green Jeep in the left row; that's yours." She passed the receipt that printed to Brian to sign before shredding the back page from the front and handing him his copy. "Before you go, Mr. Littrell?"   
  
He turned back to the counter and smirked at the young woman, picking the pen back up to sign the blank piece of paper she held on the counter. Glancing to her name tag, he wrote a quick note and signed his name beneath.   
  
Following her directions, Brian quickly found his way to the car she designated as his. He hopped in, throwing his bag across himself and into the passenger seat, adjusting the driver's seat and mirrors. Before pulling out of the lot he checked the glove compartment; he knew the way but grabbed the map he found there just in case.   
  
An hour later he pulled into the long driveway. Each time he visited their home it took his breath away; Kevin and Kristin had really done great with finding this place. It was off a private street, hidden from the road behind multiple rows of trees. The flowers that followed up the drive lent vibrant colors to fill in between the green, green trees and the lush lawn. He it followed up to the garage, parking beside Kevin's car, which was, unusually, outdoors with the trunk open.   
  
Climbing out, Brian grabbed his bag from the passenger seat. He walked to his cousin's car and peered into the trunk, noticing a few suitcases and Kevin's trusty carry on.   
  
"Bri?" He jumped at the voice, turning to face the owner.   
  
"Kev." He replied, lunging into his cousin's arms once he was close.   
  
Kevin 'omphed' from the impact but held steady, only one foot moving to keep their balance. He squeezed his cousin to him. "Why are you here?"   
  
Brian laughed into his shoulder and pulled back to stand on his own. "No 'Hi, how you doing? Please, come inside for a drink,' for your cus?"   
  
"Alright, well, 'Hi, how you doing? Please, come inside for a drink.'" Kevin smirked, turning to walk into the house. Over his shoulder, he threw, "Why are you here?"   
  
Brian grumbled under his breath with a smile, following Kevin inside. They headed into the older man's kitchen, Kevin grabbing Brian's favorite soda from the fridge door. Falling into one of the chairs around the kitchen table, Brian cradled the can in his hands.   
  
His smile slipped as he popped open the top, gulping down a generous sip. He looked up at his cousin and bit his lip. "I broke things off with Leigh."   
  
Kevin's eyes bugged but he carefully kept from showing any other reaction. "Okay," he drawled slowly, not sure what to say to the other man.   
  
"We're just... not right for each other, man." Brian patted his palm against the table edge as the bass for his drumming fingers. Every word he'd rehearsed on the plane ran from his mind and he found himself stumbling over his explanation. "Just, every time she wasn't around, I felt good, and whenever she was, I found myself wishing she wasn't. I only ever felt like we were _right_ when she was physically right there next me. I feel like such an ass that this took me so long to figure out." He grimaced.   
  
Kevin sighed and reached across the table. He laid his hand over his cousin's and squeezed, stopping Brian's drumming. "Just be happy you figured it out before you actually married her."   
  
At that, Brian let out a startled laugh.   
  
"It seriously could be so much worse than just breaking off the engagement, bud. I know you, you've rationalized this a thousand times over." Kevin said encouragingly.   
  
Shaking his head, Brian flipped his hand over and held his cousin's. He didn't lift his eyes as he spoke, "Quite the opposite actually. She came home from breakfast with her bridesmaids, going on and on about the perfect church that was only available on this one certain day and it was as if I ran full speed into a wall." He looked up shyly, "Proposing to her was definitely one of the biggest mistakes of my life."   
  
"Eh," Kevin started, "she was good for you at the time. Things change; _people_ change."   
  
"Yeah, I guess." Brian said, grabbing the can for another sip. He placed it back on the table, now empty. "I'm sorry for dropping in on you, man. I just couldn't take staying in that house anymore. Her friends and parents kept coming by to grab more of her stuff and I just needed to get out of there. I caught you at a bad time though, huh."   
  
"You didn't want to go to your parents?"   
  
"I was hoping to stay here, if you and Kris don't mind. I just know mom and dad aren't going to stop playing twenty questions and I'm really not in the mood for that." Brian shrugged.   
  
Sighing, Kevin pulled back. He ran his hand across his forehead and rubbed at his eyes. "Not a problem, cus." He groaned silently, "I've just got a phone call to make then maybe you can help me bring my bags inside?"   
  
"You weren't heading out?" He asked surprised.   
  
"Nah, just got back actually," he lied, getting up slowly from the table. "Just give me a couple minutes; I'll be right back."   
  
"I'll be here," Brian called back, fiddling with the empty can.   
  
Kevin hurriedly walked to his office and shut the door behind himself. Falling into his chair, he let out an exasperated noise, hating what he was about to do. He twisted the phone, from where it perched on the corner of his desk, towards himself and grabbed the receiver to dial.   
  
Three rings later Howie answered the phone with a muffled, "'Ello?"   
  
Kevin sighed into the line, "I'm not gonna make this plane, D. Brian could not have worse timing if he tried."   
  
"What's going on?"   
  
"He broke things off with Leigh, showed up here just before I drove off; no call, no nothing. I've never seen him look this lost before." He said, resting his elbows on the desk. He dropped his head into his hand and scrubbed it over his eyes.   
  
"Damn... I know he was having second thoughts but—"   
  
"You knew about that?"   
  
"It was written all over his face, man. Anyone could see he wasn't happy."   
  
He let out a long breath of air, his mouth in the shape of an 'O'. "I never really saw that..."   
  
"I thought he was just gonna pull through it but I guess whatever was bugging him was too big."   
  
"I don't know, he hasn't really said. I mean, he told me he didn't feel like they were right for each other but not really anything else. I think there's more he's hiding."   
  
"Could be," Howie said. "Listen, I'm just about to get up to security. You take care of that Backstreet Baby and I'll take care of the other. Nick can fend for himself right now," he laughed.   
  
Kevin laughed, too, "You know, it was never too often Bri and Aje give us more trouble than Nick." He sighed through his smile. "Alright, call me when you land; tonight, too, if you wouldn't mind. I wanna talk to him if I can..."   
  
"I know," he said. "I can't believe I'm hopping on a plane and that my best friend will be on the other end of the ride. Feels surreal after this last year."   
  
"Definitely," he agreed. "I just hate that I won't get to be there, too."   
  
"I'm sorry, Kev."   
  
"Yeah, I mean, I even tried to pawn him off to his parents but he doesn't want all the questions—"   
  
"Can't blame him."   
  
"Have a safe flight, D. Don't forget to call me."   
  
"Will do, Kev. Take care of Bri and if you can get a plane out next week just let me know."   
  
"Might be cutting it too close to the wedding doing that; Kristin's still got so much for us to go through." He grumbled.   
  
"Even for a few days, man. Denise said he was 'excited but apprehensive'," He quoted. "He obviously wants to see you, too, then."   
  
"I think he honestly wants to see all of us. He's scared though, and I don't know why. He has to know we love him."   
  
"I think he does," Howie sighed. "At least I hope. Listen, I got to run now man. I'll call you tonight?"   
  
"I'm gonna hold you to that," Kevin smiled. "Safe flight."   
  
"Thanks; good luck!"   
  
"Thanks, D. Bye." He hung up, pushing the phone back into its corner. He sighed and leaned back into his chair, scrubbing his head with both hands. "I can't believe I'm going to miss this," he grumbled under his breath.   
  
He rested there a few minutes more before finally having the energy to move. He pushed himself up out of the seat and sluggishly made his way back to the kitchen where he could still hear Brian fiddling with the can. "Come on, man," he called from the door way and smiled when Brian jumped. "Help me get my bags inside."


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, long time no post... I'm deeply sorry for my absence from the fandom but I want to give my sincerest thanks to everyone who read/reread during my unintended hiatus. I just recently saw BSB on tour and I always have an issue both leading up to and right after a show with differentiating my characters from who they actually are, so there's the reasoning. I do hope you are still enjoying this story as it has much more to go. In the meantime, the very anticipated (at least for me), reunion chapter...

He fiddled his thumbs together where they were pressed between his legs. Sitting in the back seat of the black SUV, Howie stared out at scenery flying by. He'd been in the car for a little more than an hour and it'd been about fifteen minutes since they'd gotten off the highway. He found himself in a struggle to sit still, his nerves prickling at his skin and his heart racing.  
  
This was it, he told himself; it'd been more than a year, but this was finally it. The driver turned down the last road—Howie could swear he saw a mailbox at the front—and slowly taking shape in the distance was a fairly large cabin. He bit his lip and clenched his hands together. This was it.  
  
The car pulled to a stop in front of the cabin, parking next to what he assumed was AJ's new car, and the driver hurried out to grab Howie's bags from the trunk. Still sitting in the backseat, he shook his head and pinched his arm a few more times, trying in vain one last attempt to calm himself. He took a deep breath in and pushed it hard of out his mouth, turning to open the car door.  
  
He grabbed the handle and pulled but before he could push, a figure caught his eye and he froze. Howie's heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stared wide-eyed at the figure in the doorway of the cabin. AJ was dressed in sweats, goatee-less, and running his hand back through his hair. He bit his lip again, finally mustering the courage to push the car door open.  
  
AJ's eyes snapped to his and an apprehensive smile briefly crossed the younger man's face. Studying him carefully, Howie watched where his fingers pulled at the thread on the bottom hem of his shirt and the way his teeth were kneading his bottom lip. Clearly seeing AJ's fear, he let himself forget about his bags, about how strange it'd look, about his crazy heart beat, and ran full-speed towards his best friend. He took the few steps up two at a time and crashed into AJ, winding his arms tightly around him.  
  
AJ whooshed with air and relief and stumbled backwards, his back falling into the door jam and holding them upright. He wrapped his arms around Howie in turn and squeezed his face into the space where shoulder meets neck. He breathed out unsteadily there, breath hot and clammy and shaking. "I missed you." He whispered into that space, tightening his arms around his best friend.  
  
"Don't you _ever_ do this to me again, Alexander. I couldn't take this again." Howie said back, his voice broken. He pulled back slightly and took the younger man's face in his hands, "Why'd you do this?" He choked.  
  
AJ opened his mouth to speak, his tearful eyes moving back and forth over Howie's, when the driver set the bags down on the bottom step. "Have a good day, sir." He called politely and AJ reached into his pocket at the same time Howie did. He gently shook his head and placed his hand over Howie's before extending his own with the tip towards the driver.  
  
Howie shook his head and smiled to himself, seeing that this AJ was still the same old Alex that he knew.  
  
AJ looked around, confused, as the driver walked back to the car. "Where's Kev?" He asked tentatively, scared that the older man changed his mind about coming to see him.  
  
Howie sighed, unsure how much of the real story he should tell; he didn't want to load too much on AJ too soon. He faltered and reached for his bag, "Family emergency."  
  
"Oh," AJ said solemnly, grabbing the other bag and turning to lead Howie inside.  
  
Clearing his throat once the door was shut behind them, Howie glanced around at the interior of the cabin. "This is a really nice place." He said quietly.  
  
AJ smiled softly to himself, taking a sweeping look around the room, "I fell in love with it as soon as I saw it. Had a few renovations to do but this place makes me never want to leave."  
  
"I can see," Howie whispered, unable to help the emotions playing over his words.  
  
"D..." AJ sighed. He shrugged his shoulders to himself before walking down the steps into the living room. "We can bring your bags up to the room later; are you thirsty? Hungry?" He asked, setting the luggage down at the end of the couch.  
  
Howie set the bag he was holding down there as well and shrugged. "Not really. Snacked on the plane."  
  
"Okay, anything else I can offer?" AJ asked uncomfortably, trying to make the situation feel as normal as possible.  
  
"The truth?" Howie whispered back, finally turning to face his best friend. "Whatever happened, man, whatever reason you left; I just can't wrap my head around it."  
  
He sighed, turning and falling back into the couch, slumping into the corner. He waited for Howie to sit and reached a hand up to scrub at his cheek. AJ knew that Howie would force the topic as soon as he saw him but he still felt ill-prepared; he practiced speech after speech in his head once his mom told him that, "yes, Howie's coming," but nothing came to him now as he stared into his best friend's eyes. "God, this is so much harder than I thought it'd be..."  
  
"Just take your time," Howie said back soothingly.  
  
"I just, I really hoped you guys would just," he swallowed hard, "continue on and forget about me. I didn't really think any of you actually cared enough."  
  
"Are you crazy?" Howie asked harshly. When AJ flinched, he reached a hand out, brushing his fingertips softly across the back of AJ's. "You're the only thing any of us can talk about, let alone think about. We love you, man, that hasn't changed. At all."  
  
"I know that now," he said softly, tears stinging his eyes as he really looked at his best friend. He could finally see the truth in what his mother had been telling him all along. AJ flipped his hand over and caught Howie's. "I just—"  
  
His ears perked up and he turned his head towards the stairs, hearing faintly what he knew was a baby's cry. "Are you," Howie swallowed, "taking care of a friend's baby?"  
  
AJ stood as he swiped the switch on the baby monitor at his hip off. "Kid's got timing," he grumbled. He headed to the stairs, calling, "I'll be right back, D," over his shoulder.  
  
"Aje?"  
  
"Right back." He called again, holding a hand out with his index finger held up towards Howie as he ascended the stairs.  
  
He stopped in the doorway once he reached Presley's room, taking a moment to collect himself. He braced both arms on the doorframe and let his head hang forward, eyes closed. He breathed in deeply, once, twice, and slowly let it out. Finally feeling somewhat settled, AJ walked to the crib in the corner of the room. Peering over the edge, he noticed Presley's cries had turned into happy gurgling noises and he smiled. "Hey little man," he said softly, reaching in and rubbing his son's tummy.  
  
"Aje?"  
  
He turned sharply, hearing the catch in Howie's voice. Looking blankly at his friend, AJ could swear that his heart stopped beating.  
  
"What," Howie's voice caught and he shook his head. "What's going on?"  
  
Swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat, AJ snapped himself back to reality. He turned to Presley, still with that deer-in-headlights look, and, knowing he had no other choice, reached into the crib. He breathed out heavily as he cradled Presley to his body, lifting the seven-month old out of the crib. He swallowed again and turned so that Howie could clearly see the bundle in his arms. "This-this is Presley."  
  
Howie stared in shock at the baby. He barely acknowledged the name as his mind hurried to take in the little boy's eyes, his nose, his lips, his hair, his skin tone. He looked at AJ and back to the baby, back to AJ, and back to the baby. He stood stiffly as the younger man walked towards him, his mind hurrying to catch up to the situation.  
  
"Presley," AJ called in a soft voice, bouncing his son in his arms a little. He watched Howie's face carefully as he spoke, "This is your Uncle Howie."  
  
"Uncle?..." Howie repeated to himself, even though he knew, without the introduction, that this little boy was AJ's. He reached a hand out towards the baby before his nerves stopped his arm mid-air. He gulped and reached out again, looking to AJ as he asked, "Can I?"  
  
Smiling tentatively, he nodded and carefully passed his son to the older man. Taking a step back, AJ tried to engrain the image in front of him in his head. Noting the awe on Howie's face, he watched as his son and best friend met for the first time.  
  
"My God, Aje." Howie said, his freehand fingering at the boy's cheek and pudgy jawline.  
  
He stepped closer, lifting his fingers to run through the soft hair atop Presley's head. "I know. He's my little angel."  
  
Howie glanced up at his friend, still trying to digest all he was seeing. "How old is he?"  
  
AJ didn't look up as he spoke, still carefully watching his son's face. "He just turned seven months."  
  
"He's why you left." Howie said, his question coming out as a statement instead.  
  
"Yes," he answered on a rush of air. He kept his eyes trained downwards, unable to take the hurt he could feel flowing off Howie in waves. AJ turned away, walking to the window at the opposite end of the room. A minute and a few shaky breaths later, he continued, "I didn't know how to tell you guys or what you'd say if I somehow found the courage. I mean, as a guy, how do you tell your friends that you're pregnant?"  
  
The tears were thick in AJ's voice and Howie found his shoulders slumping with the weight of it.  
  
"Only my mom knew. I just-I couldn't face you guys with this. It could've ended us as friends; it would've hurt our careers... I didn't want to be the reason why Backstreet ended."  
  
Pushing everything else aside, Howie responded the only way he knew how. "Jay, with or without telling us, you had to have known that we wouldn't have gone on without you."  
  
"How could I have known that?" He asked, his voice catching as he swung back around to face his friend.  
  
Howie could clearly see that no tears had fallen but that the younger man was on the verge of a break down. "Because you know us." He said softly.  
  
AJ crossed his arms over his chest, letting them act as a shield to protect him from the pain, and let his head fall and his eyes close, taking in Howie's answer. He cringed inwardly with regret, half ashamed at how he had handled everything. "I couldn't even tell Him, Howie," his said without lifting his head, "how was I supposed to tell the rest of you?"  
  
Shifting the little boy in his arms, Howie moved closer to AJ. He wrapped one arm around the younger man and pulled him close, cradling AJ to his body as well. He let minutes pass just standing there, looking down at the baby in his arm. He couldn't believe his best friend had one of these... For all of Howie's honest opinion, his best friend still _was_ one of these. How could he have gone through this alone?  
  
Clearing his throat a little while later, Howie softly spoke. "So what did you say this little guy's name was?"  
  
AJ smiled softly and blinked away the unshed tears as he lifted his head, reaching a hand up to run through his son's hair. "Presley. And yes." He answered, knowing what Howie's next question would be.  
  
"How?" Was all he asked, running the hand that was around AJ's back up and down.  
  
Smirking crudely, AJ shifted his face to his friend. "I didn't think I'd need to explain the birds and the bees to you."  
  
Howie laughed, pulling away and heading over to the rocking chair. "Not what I meant, perv." He responded as he sunk into the cushion.  
  
AJ sighed and dropped to his knees in front of the chair. He reached a hand up so that he could still caress his son's head as he spoke. "We were close, you knew that."  
  
"Yeah, but I don't think any of us realized you were this close."  
  
"No," he sighed, "probably not." Slowly, he continued, "Honestly, I don't think we even knew we were. I mean, it started as a fluke... You remember when, after we finished recording Millennium, we all went out to celebrate, right?" He asked, knowing they'd all been plastered that night. Howie had even been drunk enough to wind up passing out at the bar. He waited for his friend to nod before he continued, "Well, we were both pretty tipsy, and one thing led to another, and... I kissed him. And that was really it the first night. We never talked about it.  
  
"When tour started, we just fell into a routine, hanging out after shows and just talking about whatever. It was probably a month in before anything happened again, and that time he kissed me. I don't think we really understood the consequences of sleeping together when it eventually happened. I mean, we both knew that a guy could get pregnant," he smirked, "we weren't that far behind the times. But we never discussed the actuality of it. When I found out I was, I just, froze up. I pulled away from him—away from all you guys—I was terrified."  
  
"I can't believe you went through this alone." Howie said again, still in disbelief over the situation. He startled when AJ answered, having not been sure he even spoke the words aloud.  
"Not alone." He said softly, "Just not with you guys."  
  
He sighed, lifting a hand to rub at the center of his creased forehead. "So what now?"  
  
AJ smiled, waving his hand as he spoke, "I wasn't even sure how to tell _you_ about Pres, so you got me by the ass-end."  
  
"Alright, well," Howie started, taking a moment to think through what he'd say. "Kev's getting married in a month—"  
  
"What?" He interrupted, his head snapping up.  
  
Howie cleared his throat. "Yeah, he, uh... He proposed, like, right after tour ended. Right before, um..." He looked at AJ uneasily.  
  
AJ let his head fall, wallowing in all he realized he'd missed, "Wow."  
  
"Yeah..." Howie said.  
  
AJ swallowed, shaking himself out of the guilt he could feel lurking. "So where's the wedding?"  
  
"You're gonna go?" He asked in shock.  
  
"Hell yes, I'm gonna go! A guy I've known for eight years is getting married, you don't think I'd go?"  
  
Howie grumbled to himself just low enough for AJ to not hear, "I've known you longer and never thought you'd do this..." 


End file.
